


The Cetra and the Lion

by FestivalGrey



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Bestiality, Birth, Breeding, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Eventual Romance, F/M, Forced Pregnancy, Impregnation, Interspecies, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, Knotting, Lactation Kink, Maternal Instinct, Motherhood, Porn With Plot, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Romance, Slow Romance, Teratophilia, beast porn but also it's romance, dubcon, pregnant with little wolf cubs, that said the consent gets unproblematic in later chapters, they both consent but the situation is out of their hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:21:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23113870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestivalGrey/pseuds/FestivalGrey
Summary: Professor Hojo has a plan to breed two new specimens together.This time, he succeeds.
Relationships: Aerith Gainsborough & Red XIII | Nanaki, Aerith Gainsborough/Red XIII | Nanaki
Comments: 68
Kudos: 265





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Can you believe that’s it’s five weeks and change until the FF7 remake comes out?
> 
> To celebrate, I decided to revisit a certain idea from early on in the original game. This is part 1 of a fully-written 5-part series. I’ll upload a new chapter every Wednesday, with the last one coming right before the remake launches. It’s porny, but also with more of a focus on plot and character than usual. I hope you enjoy ^^

The world is cold and grey around me, a sterile world of tubes and syringes and disinfectant.

I try to will myself to be unafraid. To tell myself that I can get through this. I am not a meek, frightened girl. I am Aerith Gainsborough. I’ve spent my years in the slums of Sector 7 seeing the worst of all humanity on display. I am not afraid.

My litany only gets me so far.

The man leveling his gaze at me from the other side of the glass reeks of more danger than any of the criminals or lowlifes I was used to guarding myself against back home. He’s a bony, almost emaciated man with cruel cheekbones who would be tall if he ever straightened his back. His slight smile feels empty, as if he is just wearing it because he knows it’s what people expect to see.

“The last Cetra,” he says. His voice, muffled a bit by the glass, is barely inflected, almost boring. It feels bland. Unassuming. Like the castor bean—or the death cap. Neither seems overtly dangerous.

I suppress a shiver, but he’s not looking at me. He’s staring down at his clipboard. His labcoat is plain white and devoid of the emblem for the organization he works for: Shinra Corporation, the energy conglomerate that rules the world in all but name. “You know, we found another who’s the last of _his_ kind,” he says. When he glances up, I don’t enjoy the look in his eye. “I’ve stumbled upon a truly marvelous idea. A way to prevent the extinction of two endangered species in one swift stroke.”

My mind turns over his words for a few seconds before I realize what he’s hinting at.

My revulsion couldn’t be stronger.

“You—you freak!” I scream, jumping to my feet. “You—no! I won’t!”

His laugh is as bland as his voice. He stands to look me in the eye; from here I can see how greasy his hair is. “My dear Cetra, I’m surprised you care so little about the viability of your species,” he says. His eyes sweep up and down my body and I step back, crossing my arms over myself. It only seems to amuse him.

“When— _if_ —I have children, it will be my decision. I’m not _breeding_ for you,” I spit.

He laughs again. “Why girl,” he says, “what makes you think you have a choice?”

He nudges a button on a console nearby and one of the doors slides open with a pneumatic hiss. On the other side is a coterie of merciless Shinra goons and—

I start. Some kind of creature?

The creature is lithe—mostly leonine, but with wolfish traits as well. Its fur is a fiery carnelian red, the belly a softer orange-yellow like the sun at dawn. Someone has tattooed geometric designs on its left legs; above one of them is the symbol for thirteen. Its mane, trimmed almost like a human’s hair, is a rich and pleasing umber; one eye is golden, the other sliced through with a scar.

There’s a thin hum in the room, so slight as to almost be unnoticeable, and I realize it’s coming from the electric collar they have around the creature’s neck. No fewer than three of the Shinra goons have poles attached to the collar, which they use to keep it at bay.

The red-furred creature does _not_ seem happy to be here. It snaps uselessly at one of the suits, and as it does so, it twists in a way that lets me get a glimpse at its underbelly. I see a sheath—lightly-furred balls—so the creature is a he, then, not an it.

I start. A ‘he’?

And it suddenly all clicks.

“No,” I whisper. This isn’t happening. “No, no, no!” I back away until I thump uselessly against the transparent walls of my holding cell. “You _can’t!_ ”

I can _feel_ the researcher smiling at my back. “Can’t?” he asks, a tiny mocking lilt to his voice.

“I won’t mate with that—that thing! I won’t do it!”

The commotion interrupts the creature’s scuffle with his guards. All attention is on me.

The creature looks at me, and then past me at the doctor. His eyes… they’re a summery golden color, but more than that, they show a soulful, quiet kind of thought to them. They’re not the eyes I would have expected to see in a monster or a beast.

And then he opens his mouth and—well. What would _your_ reaction be, were you to learn that humanoids aren’t the only things in this world that can talk? That maned, four-legged creatures can speak—and not only speak but do so with a voice that is low, smooth, exotic, almost lyrical. What would you do?

I was left speechless.

“Hojo,” the creature growls, his voice astonishing me. “‘Mate’? What is this?”

I hear the scientist—Hojo—shuffling behind me. “Red,” he replies. “I think it should be simple. You’ve snarled at me for long enough about how lonely you are. Well, now you have a companion.” A tinny knock sounds through my cell as he raps on the glass right over my head. “One who, given about nine months, will do even more to ease your loneliness.”

The frankness of what Hojo is saying—me? Knocked up, _bred_ by this mysterious creature, this Red? It’s obscene—no, more than that, it’s impossible!

“Y-you can’t,” I say shakily. My voice is tremulous; I’m fighting to keep my composure and only partially succeeding. “You c-can’t think h-he… and I…” I turn, half-rising, to shoot as desperate a look I can manage at Hojo. “We’re so different! It’s—it can’t be biologically possible!”

Whatever I was expecting, it wasn’t for Hojo to shake his head like a teacher about to correct a child. “You are so ignorant of your own history,” he said. “Cetra ruins show that your race can breed with almost anything—not just humans, but other creatures as well. Chocobos, monsters, even dogs and wolves. Perhaps the etchings in the ruins were fanciful imaginings or allegories or fables.” His smile, impossible as it seems, tightens even more. “But I do not think so. Of course, there is only one way to know for sure.” He looks past me. “Red. Come now. She may not be the shape you were expecting, but you have a female.”

What is he saying? He’s really going to go through with this? This beastlike Red, he’s going to fuck me? To _impregnate_ me?

I begin shaking again. No, no, no. I try to protest but my words come out inarticulate, shaky behind my cries. I huddle uselessly against the wall. _AVALANCHE will rescue me,_ I think desperately. _My new friends. They’ll find me. They have to._

A snort of derision from behind. Hojo is unimpressed. “Come now, Red,” he says. “Rip those close off her easily enough and you can finally bid farewell to your loneliness.”

Red stares at me, and my heart pounds in fear that he’ll make his move—but then he doesn’t do anything and I manage to knuckle through my fear enough to see clearly. This is no slavering, hungry, lustful beast. The tip of his tail is thrashing in distress; his eyes look concerned, disgusted, even angry. I wonder how I look to him—crying, fearful, huddled against the wall.

He lowers himself onto his belly and refuses to get up.

“I’m not some piece of livestock for you to mate, Hojo,” he says. Says, not growls—I wonder at how his mouth, all fangs and tongue, can make human speech. “I’m not forcing myself onto that poor girl.”

I can barely register my astonishment, my surprise, my relief, before Hojo’s voice cuts in. “Stupid beast. _Make_ him want it.”

One of the goons hits a button on his pole and lightning surges down it, sinking its fangs right into Red.

The result is instant. Red tenses, digs his claws into the ground, grits his teeth. The lightning is playing about him and he’s trembling.

It lasts about half a minute and when it’s over, he can barely stand.

“We can keep doing this, Red,” Hojo says. It’s like he’s forgotten I’m here.

“I… won’t…” he forces out. I hear Hojo sigh, hear him rap the glass once, and then—

 _Two_ of the goons hit their buttons. Red’s reaction is not nearly so subdued this time. He arches his back as best he can with the collar and poles on him. A scream rips out of his mouth. The sound… it was like a wolf screaming and a young man wailing, layered on top of one another. It was a hideous, haunting, terrible sound.

I’m up before I know it. “Stop it!” My voice cuts across the air. “Stop it, please!” I rush forward, to do what, I can’t say—swat at the goons (but I don’t have my staff), cast a healing spell (but they stole my materia). Instead, a Shinra thug catches me, and when I try to fight back, he grapples me to the floor like it’s second nature.

I can only watch as they torment him.

They keep the double current on him for almost a minute and when they let up, Red collapses against the floor, shuddering. His beautiful autumn fur looks singed in places, and I hear him whimpering softly, like a dog that’s been kicked and is afraid it’s going to be kicked again.

“All you have to do is fuck the girl,” Hojo says. There’s a slight trace, barely imperceptible, to his voice—an undertow of annoyance. “Really now, Red. The solution is that simple.”

“She doesn’t… want it…”

An aggrieved sigh from Hojo. “That’s _her_ problem, not yours.”

The noble creature rolls his head to glare at Hojo through his good eye. I think to the scar on the other one. How did he get it?

Will he get more today? Because of me?

“I’d rather… die…” Red says.

“You’d throw your species’ legacy aside just to protect some weeping girl?” Hojo sneers.

Red doesn’t respond. Instead, he curls in on himself, waiting the end.

“Fine.” Hojo nods at the three goons with the poles. “If he wants death so bad, give it to him.”

I scream in protest, and it’s worth as much as a dandelion against a firestorm. All three of them press the buttons.

The electricity almost makes the room glow. I can hear Red screaming in pure, inarticulate agony. His voice, low and melodic and noble, is now high with pain. It’s messy. Drawn-out. Shattering. This is no way to die.

Die. He’s dying. They’re _killing_ him. And all because of me. Someone he barely knows. A fellow captive he refused to hurt.

It’s because of me that the electricity is dancing across his fur, is making his voice shake with agony. He’s the last of his kind. There will be no more of whatever nameless, wonderful creatures he is—dancing across the glades and the fields (for surely he doesn’t belong in such a grimy place as Midgar) with their fur swept by the cool, life-giving breeze.

An entire race will die tonight.

 _AVALANCHE,_ I think desperately. _They’ll save us. They have to._ But the seconds tick on and Red’s screams grow more broken and I have to face facts: AVALANCHE isn’t coming. Cloud isn’t coming. None of them are. They can’t save me or Red tonight.

Only I have the power to do that.

“I’ll do it!” I scream, bellowing as loud as I can to be heard above Red’s pained yells. Hojo knocks his hand against the glass and the men shut off the power instantly. What’s left is a silence so pure that you could hear a leaf fall to the earth. The only sound is Red’s soft, intermittent sobs.

“Say it again,” Hojo says.

“I—I’ll—”

I swallow. The words die in my mouth. Red is—he’s not a monster. He’s a good person. ( _Person?_ I ponder, before deciding that yes, fur or no, he’s certainly a better person than the men who collared him.)

But good or not, the thought of me bent over, hissing from the fur rubbing against my back as I am taken from behind by a quadruped, makes me queasy.

I don’t want this.

But I don’t want Red to die even more.

“I’ll d-do it,” I say, my voice faltering. “I’ll sl—” The words tumble over each other and I swallow. I force myself to say it. “I’ll sleep with him.”

“And bear his children?”

Oh gods. Oh _gods._ I’d almost forgotten that part. Could Cetra really breed with this creature? Would I—would my belly swell with Red’s young? Would they be people? Animals? Something in-between?

The seconds grow and I can feel Hojo’s impatience growing with them. He’s going to order them to finish Red off.

I can’t say it, but I nod as clearly as I can while still pinned by the goon.

“You get that, Red?” The whiff of annoyance in Hojo’s voice has been replaced by smugness. “You’re in the clear.”

Red struggles to raise his head and looks at me. “You don’t—have to do this for—m-my sake,” he forces out. “Miss…”

“It’s Aerith,” I reply, my voice soft as the dawn.

“Aerith,” he repeats. “Please. Forget about me.”

Forget about him? If he died here for me, that would haunt me forever. I shake my head.

Red locks eyes with me and a wordless understanding passes between us. Neither of us wants this, but neither is to blame. We’ll do what we have to in order to protect each other. I can see the emotions marshaling behind his eyes: gratitude, despondency, weariness.

“Well then!” Hojo says. “We can move ahead, but Red doesn’t seem to be in the state for strenuous activity at the moment.” He adjusts his glasses. “Thankfully, we have all the time in the world. A few days from now.”

They drag Red away, and Hojo follows after, leaving me alone in my tiny cell with the see-through walls.

Only a few days until they breed me like the specimen I am.

\---

The area they take me to is jaw-dropping. I expected them to bring Red tack to my cell, but instead I am corralled a few floors up to an incredible place. It’s almost an entire floor unto itself, which, in a place as big as Shinra HQ, means it’s just about the size of half a dozen city blocks. It’s a facsimile of an outdoor space: rolling grassy hills with wildflowers, a smattering of leafy trees, a few hollows and caves at the edge, even a running, bubbling brook. If it wasn’t for the transparent glass ringing the enclosure (and the sterile light-grey walls beyond them) I’d almost think I had wandered into some storybook land.

Red tells me that this is his enclosure. “They built it for me,” he says, his voice low, “because they figured an animal needed the outdoors.” He is no longer collared. He tries not to look at me; I try not to look at him.

I’m naked.

They stripped me of my dress before dragging me up here, Hojo noting clinically that clothes would have just gotten in the way. There’s a perverse sort of sense to these words, yet I find myself shivering nonetheless—not from the air of the enclosure, which is actually temperate and quite pleasant, clothes or no, but because everyone here can see anything they wish. It’s not Red I’m worried about so much as Hojo and his fellow scientists. They prowl at the edge of the enclosure, monitoring me through video cameras, and a few have wandered into the transparent tubes that snake their way across the ground, giving observers a direct view if they wish. Hojo and a few others have taken the opportunity.

“It’s lovely,” I say, ignoring them as best I can and returning my attention to Red.

“It’s not home,” he replies, his voice bitter with longing. He stands up a little bit and my mouth dries. His cock—the very tip of it is poking out of its sheath. The visualization of what I’m about to do hits me again and I swallow.

His attention piqued by the sound, Red glances at me and sees where I’m looking, reads the discomfort on my face. His own face (surprisingly expressive for his leonine form) shifts, his look becoming pensive and withdrawn.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks. I can’t get over how low and clear his voice is. It’s truly a lovely sound.

“Please,” I say, the anticipation unbearable. “I appreciate the thought, but please, don’t—don’t ask again.”

He nods.

Hojo is watching us from a nearby tube and he pulls up a mic to his mouth. His voice floods in from speakers all around the enclosure: “Well. Whenever you two are ready, let’s save your species, shall we?”

A low growl of contempt—the most animalistic sound I’ve heard from Red yet—rips from the mouth of my soon-to-be-partner. I couldn’t agree with the sentiment behind it more.

Red turns to me and I see his cock is almost fully out of his sheath. It’s about the length of a human’s, but far different in shape: a thick trunk tapering to a tiny tip, with modest spines and ridges scattered intermittently along it. Where it touches his balls, the base thickens.

He takes a step towards me and I immediately blurt out “Wait!” He stops immediately, sitting on his haunches and curling his tail around his forepaws.

I can see the scientists in the tube milling about. “I—I need to get ready,” I say. “Humans, we—the female benefits from, um, preparation first. To make it easier.”

“You’re not human,” the voice of one of Hojo’s assistants chimes in over the speaker. “You’re a Cetra, specimen XIX.” Specimen nineteen—that’s what Hojo calls me now, just as Red is specimen XIII. I wonder if he’ll tattoo or brand the number into me as did for Red.

“Easy,” comes Hojo’s voice, gently chiding his colleague. “Cetra are humanoid enough that it’s believable. And besides. The purpose here is conception—and that will work better if both of them commit. If this is what the female needs, then so be it, so long as it gets done.”

 _The female._ I suppose that’s all I am to them. ‘Aerith Gainsborough’ might as well be foreign runes, given how little they say my name.

Hojo’s next words are directed at me. “Just don’t take all day about it, hmmm?”

I nod and wander over to a small grassy knoll about a dozen paces away. Red pads after me, keeping a respectable distance. Laying down with my back against the knoll, I close my eyes, feeling the grass dance around my bare skin and the enclosure’s warm, artificial breeze caressing me.

 _Zack,_ I tell myself. _Think of Zack._ It’s been so long—four years, perhaps? Maybe more? It doesn’t matter. Memories are what I need right now.

My eyes still shut so that I can pretend that Red and the scientists are not watching, I stroke myself gently. The reaction from my pussy is immediate—bliss shudders through me and my breath hitches. I continue stroking myself, thinking of Zack, imagining that it is his arms caressing me instead of the grass. My thoughts turn lewder and I imagine his cock spearing into me. The image leaves me flushed and my pussy wet.

 _That’s right,_ I tell myself. _It’s just Zack. He’s the one you’re going to sleep with soon. It’ll be his cock in you._ I think of myself laying with my long-lost lover, my breath growing shallower. I’m panting now, swirling one fingertip gently on my clit, every roll spiking my loins with euphoria that blooms throughout my body like petals unfurling from a bud.

I dip a finger into myself and moan. _That’s it, Aerith,_ I think. _That’s right. Enjoy it._ _If it’s going to happen, you might as well enjoy it._ My free hand cups my breast, gently squeezing and kneading it. I thumb over my nipple and feel it growing hard.

I find myself hoping that Red gets some satisfaction out of today as well.

 _Red? Who’s Red?_ I chastise myself, my fingers dancing over my clit even faster. I’m nice and wet now. My pussy is almost ready. _I’m just going to finally have that long lay with Zack I always wanted._

Biting my lower lip, my cheeks burning with arousal, I open my eyes and see Red and the whole fantasy starts to crumble. He’s—he’s nothing like Zack. He’s not even _human._ But he’s watching me and his cock is fully at attention now.

I wonder if he can smell my arousal.

“I’m ready,” I say, my voice low, almost slurring with arousal. “Zack…”

Red, who had started padding forward at my invitation, stops. “Zack?” he asks.

I bite my lip, still flushed. “I—I might call you by that name, please, just let me, it’ll help.”

Red nods and as I roll over onto my hands and knees—it just seems the easiest position for him—I keep telling myself to think that this is Zack, it’s a date with Zack, that’s all this is.

The fantasy crumbles a little more as Red mounts me in preparation. My breath hitches as I feel his furry underbelly dragging against my back, I grunt as his paws press on either of my shoulders. I can feel his bestial weight looming above me; his breath is hot on the back of my neck.

_He’s a wolf a lion an animal I’m about to fuck an animal oh god wait it’s Zack this is Zack it’s fine you’re horny just enjoy it—_

My mental voice goes haywire as the tip of Red’s cock teases my flushed entrance and my whole body tenses up despite itself. I know that Red can feel it because he tenses in return.

His voice is at my ear: “Miss Aerith—”

“Just Aerith,” I pant in return. “Please.”

“…Aerith. I’m s—”

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” I say, knowing that I couldn’t stand it if he apologized for this. It’s not his fault. “You’re like me, a victim. It’s _them._ They’re the bad ones.” He doesn’t say anything but I feel him relax in response and I think my words helped ease him. Good. “Now…” I swallow. “Z-Zack. Let’s do this. F-fuck me, Zack. Fuck me!”

And at my prompting, he enters me.

My breath hitches high, very high. I’m not exactly the sort of person who has sex a whole lot, so I’m still unused to intrusions. I feel myself clenching involuntarily around him, the sensation making his cock stand out even more. It draws a low, rippling growl of pleasure from him.

 _He’s barely even in me,_ I realize—only a bit further than the tip. “M-More,” I say, and Red— _Zack, it’s Zack, I’m sleeping with Zack_ —complies, pushing in slowly. He’s not the rough, animalistic lover I expected. He’s going gentle, incredibly gentle. It’s for me, it has to be—he’s trying to make this as painless as possible.

The tapered tip of his cock helps him push in far without too much trouble. My breath picks up, panting, as I take more and more of him. It aches—but behind it is the sweet fire, the kind that a mere finger in your pussy could never hope to simulate.

I feel his paws clutch tighter around me; his haunches are pushing closer and closer to my ass as he continues sliding in. Finally, he’s almost fully in—he holds there, panting with arousal and frustration, doubtlessly exercising incredible self-control. I can feel him trembling from it. I clench around him again and my voice hisses through my teeth. I can feel every contour of his cock; the exotic shape, the spines, the ridges. There were women who would kill for a toy like this.

He holds in me for a bit longer and then starts sliding out of me. Unexpectedly, a fervent, unnatural sensation strikes my pussy walls and I wail, my voice hiccupping with sudden distress.

Red stops _immediately,_ and I can feel him tense over me. He leans down again, the fur on his chin brushing my neck, to whisper a question: “What’s wrong?”

From my position I can’t see Hojo or his scientists, but I can imagine them scribbling away at this new complication.

“The—the spines,” I say, forcing myself under control. “They _hurt._ ”

A long, long pause. He keeps holding in me. Then he speaks again. “What… should I do?”

I almost want to laugh. He _has_ to pull out of me no matter what, and that means more of the spined sensations. But it’s unlikely that Hojo will let us stop here just because of my momentary discomfort. Not until I’ve been inseminated.

“Keep going,” I say, preparing myself. He says nothing, but I can sense his hesitation. “Please,” I say. “They’ll just make us do it anyway. And I—I just wasn’t expecting it. I’ll know now.”

“…alright,” he says, his breath hot on my ear. He slowly slides out, trying to go as gently as he can, and I have to bite my lip to keep from groaning. The slow drag of his barbed cock against my pussy bites at me, but more than that, it _overstimulates._ It’s a veritable crescendo of sensation, one I have no idea how to deal or grapple with. Every barb trailing down my inner walls is like a tiny pinpoint mixing pain and pleasure and before long, I am left quivering underneath him.

Red almost pulls out of me all the way, leaving just his tip in—then he pushes back once more.

“Z-Zack,” I mutter, but I don’t know who the fuck I am trying to convince anymore. Certainly not myself. I can play all the mental games I want, there’s no way I can believe that this bestial lover with a barbed and tapered cock, his paws still clutching my shoulders, his fur tickling my back and arms, his tail thrashing in the warm enclosure air, is anything but what he is: a soul that, however kind and noble and gentle, is certainly far from human.

Red hilts in me again, slowly, and then pulls out and I am left quivering as his spines once again make my cunt _dance._ He goes in—and out—and in—

I realize how slow he’s going, how methodical. I realize _why._ He doesn’t want to upset me. He wants to be gentle.

But the point of this is for him to cum in me. Breed me. Knock me up. Once that happens, it’ll be over. His gentle pace is touching, but misplaced. It’s just prolonging what’s happening.

“Go faster,” I mutter, my voice trailing as he drags himself out of me. “Hard— _oohhhhhh_. H-harder.” One of his spines had touched a particularly sensitive sweet spot that left me reeling with delight.

“You sure?”

“Just go fast. Cum in me. Get it over with,” I say. “That’s all I want.” I knot grass in my fists, readying myself. “I can take it. Please.”

He holds fast for a few moments, chest heaving, and then—

Oh. He _takes_ me.

Red surges forward like a storm front, his cock thundering into me with such passionate force that I can do nothing but squeal. He hesitates and I have to beg him for more and he complies, going harder, _faster,_ until he is ramming in and out of me at pure, breakneck speed.

In and out he goes, hammering my raw and aching pussy, and I’m left reeling from the continued avalanche of stimulation and sensory overload and sweet, _sweet_ fire as pain and pleasure dance together, spreading from my cunt to blossom over my entire being. Above me I can hear him growling, not in anger but in triumph. His cock is pulsing in me, throbbing, and I realize he’s _enjoying_ this.

I find myself glad that he’s enjoying this. He’s a captive too; he was willing to give his life to avoid hurting me. I don’t know how lasting the joy he receives from sexual pleasure will be, but in the moment, Red is _happy_.

_Why shouldn’t I be happy too?_

Forget the captivity. Forget Zack. Forget Hojo, forget AVALANCHE. Right now I’m just here with a friend (because that’s what this strange, beautiful wolf-lion is: the closest thing in the world I have to a friend right now) and both of us are enjoying each other’s company and each other’s bodies. Because now that I’m acclimating to his barbs, the sensation of them dragging down is so, _so_ sweet.

His paws clutch even _tighter,_ so tight I can feel his nails just starting to dig into my skin, and he leans down, putting more of his weight on me. His tail has snaked around one of my legs, gripping it tight, and as he ruts in and out of me I wonder how much of this behavior he’s doing on purpose and how much is raw animalistic instinct. His voice is a bubbling growl, constant and low like the surf, and I realize what he’s doing: he’s claiming his mate.

Red’s cock begins to pulse in me and his growl is growing higher pitched and I find myself wondering desperately if it means he’s close. “Cum in me,” I say, my voice ragged. I have to force out the worse between thrusts. “C-Cum in me. Mate me.”

A low whine from his voice and his words trill in my ear: “…Aerith… I…”  
  
I reach back to find his head and caress it. His fur is soft, but there’s a tiny singed patch from the other day. “Do it,” I say. “Do it.”

He hilts in me and my eyes widen, my voice arching high as I realize that the bulge in his base was just the hint to something much bigger. He’s got feline barbs, but the canine part of him is swelling up, knotting me, and I’m being filled and spread. He arches his head back and howls as his cock spurts thick ropes of cum right into my waiting womb. I gasp, my voice high, as his hot and viscous seed pours into me. I’m quickly filled up, moaning from the sensation.

Red half-collapses against me and both of us sink against the grassy hillside. He’s shifted his weight to avoid putting it on me, but the feeling of his warm, furry body pressing against me is so comforting…

Red’s orgasmed, but my body is still on fire. But we’re knotted, which means neither of us are going anywhere…

I squeeze around him and he rewards me with a whine. I squeeze again and his cock pulses, spurting one last jet into me. Gasping, I roll my hips— _wait._ I stop instantly. “Red,” I ask, my voice throaty. I tell myself there’s no reason to be embarrassed. “Can I?”

His response is a quizzical half-bark and I have to keep from biting my lip. “We’re tied for a bit, and—and I haven’t yet, and—”

“Ah,” he says, getting it. “Yes. Of course.”

I whisper my thanks and roll back against him. His cock, his knot, his hot and heavy seed all swirl in my loins like a delicate aftershock, and I reach down with one hand to tease my clit.

It doesn’t take long after that.

In the aftermath of my orgasm, both of us are tied together, sleepy from bliss and the aftermath. Red is cuddled up against me, his belly fur warm against my back. One paw is wrapped around my shoulder and there’s a small pressure that ebbs and flows with his breath. It’s warm. Comforting. And for a moment, I can almost forget _why_ we are lying together like this.

I can pretend that this is something I chose.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second entry to this little tale! I hope it can tide you over until the remake comes out 😌

I can’t say how long I lay there, only half-cogent, buoyed by post-coital bliss. The presence of Red’s cock quickly grows familiar inside of me.

When I blink awake, the light has grown orange and dusky to simulate dusk. Say what you will about Shinra Corporation: they spare no expense when it comes to their test subjects. Part of me still can’t believe Red’s enclosure isn’t outdoors.

I am content to lie there for long minutes, breathing. By now Red’s knot has deflated and his cock is small in me. Finally, Red stirs awake, grumbling, and when he slips out, it draws a gasp. Some of his cum leaks out of my pussy and my breath drags from me as my slit throbs with tenderness.

As I stand on wobbly legs, Red looks from the juices pooling in the grass to my sopping cunt. He doesn’t say anything, but I know what we are both thinking: did it happen? Am I going to have his children?

It’s not something I want to grapple with right now.

“If they were going to get you they would have done so already,” Red says, his voice low. “You’ll be left here overnight.”

I try to avoid shivering. It’s not _that_ cold, but it seems they’ve arranged the temperature to lower in order to simulate nighttime—and I’m still completely nude.

Of course, my efforts at hiding my chill don’t fool Red. Swishing his tail from side to side, he turns and leads me away. “I have a den in a small cave near here,” he said. “It should be warmer there.”

I follow, unsure what else to do, as he takes me to a small, tubelike cavern in the side of a hill near the stream. When I go in, I gasp at the sight. Red’s den is small and cozy, with a makeshift sleeping mat made of dried grasses over a bed of smooth, perfectly-straight sticks. The entire thing is completely spick-and-span; there’s no dirt or dust anywhere. “You can sleep there,” he says, nodding at the mat. When I ask where _he_ will sleep if I’m taking his usual bed, he barks out a soft laugh and points out that he’s roughed it in worse places than this. Then he curls up along the side of the den. “I try to keep this place as clean as I can,” he says. “If you need to do business in the evening, please step outside.” Then he curls like a cat and, his tail draped over his nose, goes back to sleep.

My walk over to the mat is ginger, every step sending aftershocks of tender pleasure strumming through me. That was the most thorough fucking I’d ever had in my life. I try not to think about how raw it was at the end, how euphoric. Me, a simple flower girl from the slums, squeezing enjoyment out of being rutted; filled; _knotted?_

To distract myself, I observe Red as he sleeps. His chest rises and falls rhythmically; he sleeps on his belly, his chin resting on his crossed front paws.

…I think about how he curled behind me, his paw wrapped around my shoulder, holding me tight against him like I was his lover, his mate.

 _Well, I guess I might be,_ I think ruefully, staring down at my stomach. I don’t know what to think if his seed actually took.

Eventually weariness creeps up on me and I curl against myself. Red’s makeshift bed is surprisingly comfortable and the den is warm, but I’m still just a lone, naked girl. The night is long and cold, and when I wake, I feel weary and unrested. Red is already up and gone; when I emerge from his den he eyes me with sympathy.

The morning marches along and there is no hint of the scientists, no clue that I will be freed. After a compartment near Red’s den opens, delivering a bowl of what looks like crunchy food for him and a hot meal for me, I decided enough is enough.

“Hey!” I yell, running to the nearest of the glass walls. (It’s a bigger journey than it seems. Red’s enclosure is, after all, massive.) “ _Hey!_ ” I yell again, pounding on the wall.

“Specimen XIX,” a voice pipes in over the speakers, “cease making a nuisance of yourself.” The voice isn’t Hojo’s; it sounds like it belongs to some bored middle-aged woman.

“Let me out!” I yell, not knowing where to look. The monitoring cameras are well-hidden. “I did what you wanted. I let him fuck me.” I hear Red padding up behind me. “So let me out already! I’m ready to leave!”

The voice that returns is exasperated, like she was explaining something to a recalcitrant child. “The point of this entire endeavor is so that you bear specimen XIII’s offspring. One session alone is not enough to guarantee that, and besides, it is far too early to tell if his seed has taken root in you. We will fetch you for bloodwork in a few days to check if conception was successful or not. In the meantime, you _will_ copulate with specimen XIII at least once daily to raise chances of fertilization. If not,” she warns, “we will take drastic measures.”

As her voice fades away, I am left shocked—flabbergasted—my mind roiling with the indignity. I slam my palms against the glass, yelling protestations, but the scientist’s voice does not come back. Eventually, Red quietly encourages me to follow him back so that we can eat. By the time I return, my meal is cold, and I take no pleasure in it.

“What do we do,” Red asks after the both of us are finished.

I bury my head in my hands. For a moment I think I am going to cry—but the moment passes, and when I raise my head it is with dry eyes and a grim acceptance. “The only thing we can,” I say.

The two of us fritter away the day, Red showing me various places around the enclosure. It’s quite spacious—there is a tiny rocky quarry, a path winding around a grove of fruit trees, even a dense pine forest.

It is here that he takes me from behind once more, the thick evergreen scent wafting in my nostrils as I keen out with every thrust. Red’s paws are draped over my shoulders as before, holding me tight against him as he ruts me. This time I’m the first of us to cum, and as my pussy flutters around him, he growls and hilts into me and I whine with delight as his knot swells, tying us together. After, when we are unstuck, I stare at the ceiling, hoping that the Hojo, that the scientists, that _any_ of my captors can see my anger. “Did you like that, you bastards?” I cry out. “Huh? Was that good enough for you?”

When it’s time to retire to the den that evening, Red trots over to the same spot against the wall he slept the previous evening. But as he curls down, I bite my lip. “Wait,” I say, and he looks up at me. “You should sleep here.”

Red shakes his head. “I won’t swap places with you,” he says. “I’m better suited for sleeping in cold spaces than humans.”

“I…” My voice stammers. Why am I being so fearful? Red, he… he’s been _in_ me twice, now. There’s no reason to hesitate. “That’s not what I’m asking. I think we should share it. Together.” Red blinks and tilts his head at me, and I continue, the words almost spilling over themselves as I speak: “Not like that. It’s cold, and, um, I… I could really use—”

He nods in understanding and stalks over to the mat. We lie together, him on the outside, curled around me. His paws gently wrap around my front, pressing against my chest and my tummy, and hold me against him. I can feel body heat radiating out of him: it’s like lying on a hearth as the fire is burning low. Every breath of his pushes his fur against my body.

We’ve been like this before, both times after sex. But this is the first time the two of us have simply laid together in each other’s mutual comfort and presence without having intercourse first.

He feels so soft. He feels so _warm._ So _safe._

And despite myself I begin to cry.

It starts small, at first, the crying: just sniffle. It quickly snowballs until I am wracking with sobs, burying my face in my palms.

I feel Red tense up behind me. “Are you oka—”

“Don’t let go,” I sniffle as he is about to withdraw his paws from me. He keeps them there, holding me tight, at my urging. “I—I—”

Fuck. I’m a mess. A weepy, desperate mess.

“I’m just really lucky that you’re you,” I manage to force out. Red doesn’t respond and I can sense his confusion. I push on, hiccupping occasionally despite myself. Crying isn’t as clean as you might believe.

“What I mean is,” I begin, “that Hojo could have given me to some monster or horny animal who would have pinned and f-forced himself on me and then cast me aside without a thought. But instead, it was you. You’re thoughtful…”

“Thoughtful? The end result was the same,” Red said, and I can hear the bitter self-loathing in his voice. “You were made to have sex with something you didn’t want to. To bear his offspring.”

“It’s different,” I say, because it is. I can’t articulate how—but it is. “Besides, we… we don’t know if we’re even compatible. This whole thing might be a wash. I’m not pregnantyet _._ ” He tenses behind me in response, and an uncertain silence fills the den. “I mean I’m… I’m not,” I insist, suddenly unsure.

Tensing again, Red sighs. “…you are, Aerith,” he says. “Maybe they won’t be able to tell for a bit, but I can already smell the change in your hormones and chemistry. It’s been obvious to me for a few hours now. I don’t know whether our offspring will be like you, like me, or even a hybrid, but… we’ll have offspring of _some_ sort. It’s inevitable. You’re pregnant.”

I blink. Blink again. Look down at my own body. Even in the dark, I can make out the shape of my stomach. It looks trim, flat—certainly not the tummy you’d expect of a mother-to-be.

…Mother.

I’m going to be a _mother._

“Oh,” I say. My hand is resting on the spot just below my navel. I can’t say when I put it there. “I… oh.”

“Aerith, I…” Red says. He stops himself from apologizing, keeping the promise he made yesterday, but I can still hear the self-hate in his voice. It jolts me out of my reverie.

“Hey,” I say, rolling over to look at him. “I…” My voice trails as I fumble for words. “Is there a good way to say ‘if I’m gonna be knocked up with some nonhuman test subject’s kids, I’m glad they’re yours’?” I finish lamely. He laughs, despite himself, and I wrap my arms around his neck. “I wouldn’t have chosen this, but since it’s out of our hands, we may as well make the best of it.”

“…I suppose,” he replies. I lean in, resting my face against his fur. It’s soft—inviting.

“Thanks, Red.” Then, suddenly, something hits me. “Red. That’s what Hojo calls you, isn’t it?”

He rumbles an assent. “Specimen Red XIII is my official designation. The scientists mostly just use my number, but Hojo likes the nickname.”

My eyes are drawn to the numeral crudely tattooed on him. That must have hurt. They haven’t done anything like that to me—yet. But the thought of carrying that number on me like a brand, of only being called by what they _want_ to call me, rather than my own name…

It sickens me.

“Do you have a real name?” I ask. He eyes me. I can see the hesitation on his face. His real name is something he must keep private. Something they can’t take from him.

But I’m not them. I’m like him. A captive. An innocent soul.

And besides. I’m going to have his kids a few months from now.

I can see all this playing out in his eyes, and then he grows resolute. “…Nanaki,” he says.

I turn the name over on my tongue. “Nanaki,” I say. It’s not like any name I’ve heard before. It’s exotic. Poetic. Beautiful, even. “Thank you. Can I call you by that name?”

He nods. Red—no, Nanaki nods. “Yes. To my people, it has a special meaning. ‘Hope’.”

I huddle closer to him. To my crimson-furred, protective beast. Nanaki. “We could use some of that, lately.”

Perhaps we should be sleeping, but the surrender of his name pries open Nanaki’s mouth, and he spends the evening regaling me.

“My home is far from here, on the western continent,” he tells me. “It’s a sacred place to us. Our language is mostly unpronounceable to humans, but its name translates to ‘Valley of the Fallen Star.’ In your tongue, they call it Cosmo Canyon.”

I can hear the memory laying heavy in his voice as he tells me his past. “My tribe has often protected that land. We live alongside the humans there. It’s a place you could never even imagine… all red stone and dusky canyons and rich sands. It’s a noble desert the color of a painted sunset.”

A desert? I’ve never thought of them as special, really, but as Nanaki describes it, it sounds lovely. But wait…

“The enclosure looks nothing like the place you describe,” I say. Nanaki huffs.

“Indeed. They built it based on what they thought an ‘animal’ would like without even asking me of what I was used to. I miss the austere stone… the noble red canyons… this endless green does nothing for me.” He nuzzles closer and licks at my shoulder. His tongue is warm, and it drags like a cat’s tongue. I sigh at the feeling and hold him tight.

“I spent about a year shuttled between cages after they caught me,” Nanaki says. “After they brought me up here, I wept. Not because it was beautiful—in fact, I hated of how little it reminded me of home. But because I realized that they wouldn’t go to such effort building such a place if they ever intended to let me go. I realized I was going to be their captive for the rest of my life.” And here his voice grows flat. “And my species lives for a long, long time.”

He continues telling me his story. How his people performed rituals in the sacred places of the canyon to appease the planet. Of their enemies, the Gi, and how his father and mother gave their lives defending him from them, leaving him the last of his kind. Of how his parents’ human friend had raised him, instilling a love for the planet. Of his uncertainty regarding his ability to live up to his parents’ legacy, and how he’d run from that duty. Of how Shinra had captured him.

As he speaks, I wonder who he is speaking for. Himself? For me? Or maybe he is talking to the tiny life that had just taken root inside of me, informing his offspring of their legacy. Deep in the night, after Nanaki has finally exhausted himself from talking and has drifted off to sleep, I lie there drowsily as his paws hold me protectively. Just a few days ago I was a flower girl from the slums, living as unimportant a life as could be. And now, here I am—mated with a creature from across the world. Carrying the legacy of a long-lost land within me.

\---

The next morning I slam my hands on the glass and tell them that I’m pregnant. They ignore me and order that Nanaki and I continue mating until they’re ready for bloodwork.

I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that they don’t believe us. They clearly see us as little more than specimens, and Nanaki—despite his words and his eyes and his proud bearing—is treated more as an exotic dog than the multifaceted spirit he is. So despite the fact that it’s completely pointless, he and I continue breeding for them.

We experiment, stepping away from the doggystyle of our last few couplings. It’s awkward at first, finding positions and styles that fit our rather divergent anatomy—but then, the two of us have nothing but time. We do it once when I’m on my side, raising my leg; once with him sitting and me riding him.

The one I like best is missionary, me on bottom and him on top. As his cock sinks into me, the burrs along it delectably nipping at my inner walls, I hold him tight and sigh, threading my hands through his fur. Every long, luxurious fuck of Nanaki’s sends pleasure strumming through me, solid and regular, like the tide creeping up on the shore.

It is in the aftermath of that session, where I am half-sleepy from coital bliss, still heavy with his seed and still spread with his knot, that I realize that if he truly is the last of his kind, what were his prospects for love? For mating? To spread his people’s legacy?

I think to the tiny life still budding in my womb, a scant day or two old, and I think that it might well be a blessing for him to have found the last living Cetra, the one being on the planet who could help his people survive.

Leaning my head in, my arms wrapped tight around his back, I whisper this in his ear and I’m rewarded with an emotional shudder from him. “But it feels wrong,” he says. “Because they made us.”

“That’s not on us,” I whisper back. “Let’s find whatever silver lining we have.” And then a thought pounces upon me, one I had never realized but which, now that I’m thinking it, is nothing but the truth: “I don’t regret this,” I tell him. “Having your young. I’m… I’m okay with it, because it’s you.”

He licks at my shoulder again, making me hiss with delight as his rough tongue drags down my skin. “Not even a week bred,” he observes wryly. “Let’s see what your song is when you’re so swollen you can’t move.”

The day after that, Hojo brings me in for bloodwork. I get to leave the enclosure for the first time—but he still keeps me nude, parading me in front of interested onlookers in Shinra’s research lab. I stand there in nothing but my own skin, pretending that I can make sense of the charts and readouts, as he fills a tiny vial with crimson and runs it through a machine.

When the reading is finished, he looks at me. “Well,” he says, his voice as uninflected as ever, “it took—and then some. You’re pregnant and in perfect health. The ideal young mother.” Despite his voice, he looks proud.

 _Proud? Why?_ I think bitterly. _I’m the one doing all the work._ “I told you that a few days ago,” I say, my voice not quite a growl as I force it through my teeth. I cross my arms in front of my chest, hiding my nipples from view, though Hojo is one of the few men here who seems uninterested in my body as anything other than a scientific specimen.

“And what reason had I to believe you?” Hojo says. “The girl who begs not to be bred and her paramour, the animal with a conscience. You’d conjure up any story just for a reprieve.”

Hojo dismisses me and sends me back to the enclosure. I’ll be staying there, I’m told, with my mate for the duration of my pregnancy.

My mate. I guess that’s what Nanaki is. A mate.

Since I’m confirmed pregnant, Nanaki and I don’t have to breed anymore, and he honors my request for us to stop. I just… He’s a kindred soul, and beautiful in his own way (the way his sunset-colored fur whipples as he races like the wind across the grass takes my breath away) but I just can’t accept regularly sleeping with a… a beast.

It feels wrong thinking of him that way. Shameful. But I can’t break it.

But Nanaki and I still keep close company. We’re all we have, of course, and at night, the two of us still curl together in his den, basking in one another’s warmth.

It is on one of these warm nights that he asks me what, exactly, a Cetra is.

It’s a question for which I have struggled to find a meaningful answer my whole life.

“I’m not sure,” I tell him. We are curled together in our favorite position, him on the outside and me on the inside. His paws are wrapped around me in the way I have learned to associate with comfort and safety. “I’m the last one, and my mother… she died when I was just a girl. I never really understood it.” I paused for a second, feeling almost wistful at her remembrance.

“My birth mother… I think she was a captive for a long time in a place like this. My earliest memories are of a lab. Eventually she managed to escape, taking me with her, but the injuries she sustained killed her not long after.”

“She’s like my parents,” Nanaki says, his voice low. “They all gave their lives so that we could continue living.”

He’s right, of course. There’s almost a poetry in our backgrounds. They rhyme.

“I was found by a woman in the slums named Elmyra Gainsborough,” I continue. “She’s the one I call mom now. She raised me. The only real thing I know of the Cetra is that we look indistinguishable from humans, we once had a great civilization spanning the planet, and that we can hear the Lifestream.”

Nanaki’s paws shift over me. “Lifestream…” he said. “My parents spoke of that, though I was too small to understand.”

“It’s all the life energy of the planet,” I say. “Plants, fish, bugs, people, you and me—our souls come from the Lifestream and return to it once we die. Shinra mines it as ‘mako’ energy. That’s where their power comes from. They’re leeching the life of the planet itself.”

“Monstrous,” Nanaki growls.

“You don’t know the half of it. Before I came here, I tried to live life as a normal human girl. I had a boyfriend named Zack.” I feel Nanaki tense behind me—he doubtless remembers the name I used to comfort myself during our first lay together. “He was a soldier,” I say, “one of the best.” Zack strides into my memories—his raven-dark hair, his easy smile, his sapphire eyes. “But one day he went on a mission and just… never came back.”

“I’m sorry,” Nanaki says.

“Don’t be. I’ve moved on.” I sigh. “After Zack, I tried living normally again, but then I fell in almost by accident with AVALANCHE—a group of freedom fighters trying to bring down Shinra. To wipe them out, Shinra collapsed part of the city onto itself.”

“Was that the sound I heard?” Nanaki mused. “Like an earthquake, but grinding and cacophonous. It was only a day or two before we met.”

“Yes,” I say. “They killed—I don’t know how many that day. Tens of thousands. Hundreds, perhaps. All to wipe out a group of _six people._ ” The memory was nightmarish. I had felt the Lifestream crying out in despair as such a flood of people had rushed into it, all before their time. “Amidst the carnage and the chaos, Shinra caught me, and—here I am.”

“I’m sorry,” Nanaki said.

I reach back to stroke his fur. “But at least I met you,” I say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, updates are on Twitter--check me out (https://twitter.com/FestivalGrey)! Thanks for reading ( :


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The saga continues! Can you believe there’s barely 2 weeks until the FF7 remake releases?

Sometimes, at night, Nanaki stirs, and I wake to feel an insistent hardness pressing against my back. He is gentlemanly; he never makes a move. When it grows too much to bear, he slinks quietly away into the darkness outside our den. If I listen close, I can hear him attending to himself with gentle, tender licks.

I feel strangely honored, that he finds me, a captive from another species, attractive.

As the days bleed into weeks I slowly start to change. I can feel myself start to fill out—my belly is still modest, almost unnoticeable, but it’s just starting to grow nonetheless. My breasts ache during the night, and I can feel them start to swell as well. I can feel my face, my hips also beginning to change.

The differences are slight, but they’re still happening. My body is readying itself for motherhood.

And that is not the only change. At times I wake with a fire in my loins, an unquenchable need that lingers for hours. It comes in the daytime, too, and Nanaki learns not to follow me if I wander into the forested part of the enclosure for comparative privacy. I rub myself, swirling my clit and biting my tongue as I sink my fingers into my own muff, and the fire only sometimes feels quenched.

More and more, I find myself thinking of Nanaki during these moments.

It is one night, when I wake to Nanaki’s firmness pressing against me while my loins still burn with needful fire, that I cast aside my old doubts. Slowly, carefully, I roll over to face him.

Nanaki is awake, as I knew he would be. “Aerith?” he whispers. His voice sounds strained. His arousal must be quite distracting. “What are you…?”

“I…” I breathe, and gulp. The desire in my voice is so heavy you can _hear_ it. “I don’t know if it’s the hormones or—or what. I know that it can sometimes affect pregnant women, but I never knew it could be this bad…”

“The females of my species often grew insatiable while pregnant, or so I hear,” Nanaki said. “Perhaps that is it.”

“M-maybe.” I swallow. “Nanaki, I… please, I need it. Please.”

He breathes, a sound so edged with desire it almost seems unreal. “Are you sure?” he whispers, almost as if he can’t believe it. I can feel his penis throbbing against my bare tummy. A tiny bit of pre is trickling down me.

“Yes,” I say, and wrap my arms over his shoulder. I touch my head to his. “Yes, Nanaki, please.”

And he takes me there in the den, slowly and sweetly, and I arch and moan about his cock, and we hold close after, knotted and tied together, his chest rumbling with satisfaction as I stroke his fur, and I reflect that we really are what Hojo says we are: mates. And from here on out, we lay together regularly; not to breed, but because we want to.

And there’s a sort of triumph, in that.

\---

My belly is modest, for I still have a ways to go; I’m barely at the end of my first trimester. If you didn’t know I was pregnant, you’d think that I had just eaten a particularly large meal.

But if you did, the growth was unmistakable.

Nanaki and I sometimes find a sunny (or, well, ‘sunny,’ considering that the enclosure is an elaborate fantasy by Shinra) corner of grass. I sit, cradling my belly and rubbing my hands over it, as he rests his paws and head in my lap.

“I wonder what they’ll be,” I say. It’s a conversation that we have often. Nanaki suspects that they will be hybrids, possessing traits from us both. I believe that they are cubs of his species. Sometimes one or both of us entertains that our children will look like me, Cetra indistinguishable from humanity, but those suppositions never last long.

Sometimes after those sessions we lay down in the grass and clover and nap in each other’s presence, smiling and happy. But sometimes I let Nanaki fuck me. He’s an incredible lover—gentle and tender like a dear soul, yet fiery and animalistic when he gets going. I’ve learned to love the dulcet burn of his barbs on my walls, and my cunt salivates for his knot. I love the sweet gentility and the raw bestial energy both; it’s incredible, to be rutted and plowed from behind by my sweet Nanaki, his voice burring with a triumphant growl, only to then have him caress me, gently teasing me with tender licks as my pussy throbs with bliss, squeezing fruitfully around his knot.

I am taken from the enclosure once every few days for a battery of tests. They’re small and mostly non-invasive, mainly just to ensure that I’m still healthy and that my body is nourishing my babies.

“The stories claiming that the Cetra were the ideal mothers didn’t lie,” Hojo asserts, smiling at me from behind his thin glasses. “In ancient times, your people would respond to wilderness disasters by sending priestesses to breed the animal populations back from the brink.” He leaned back as if amused by the thought. “I’ve often wondered how the Cetra managed to survive being impregnated by nonhuman creatures… but you’ve proven remarkably resilient. Malleable, even. You took his seed like it was nothing and your body is expertly nurturing his young.” He gestures as a black-and-grey photo that he claims shows my womb. I don’t bother glancing at it as if I understand. “This most recent test finally confirms what we wondered,” he says. “You have replicated Red’s offspring almost perfectly. A small but healthy knot of cubs. I had wondered if we might see a true crossbreed—a new species,” he says, almost sounding wistful, “but this is fine too. I hope you enjoy breeding, my dear, because that’s what you’re going to be doing here for a long, long time. You seem _built_ for it, after all.”

I want to slap him. Strangle him. Nanaki and I, we have a bond. How dare this creep, this ghoul talk as though our lovemaking is nothing more than a means to an end—a way for _my_ body to conveniently produce the test subjects he needs?

Of course, raising a hand to him won’t hurt me. They wouldn’t dare risk the cargo I’m carrying. They’d just take it out on Nanaki, and I couldn’t stand that. So I turn my back to him in disgust. He only laughs and orders me out.

That evening, snug and secure in our den, I tell Nanaki what Hojo told me. He looks at my belly in wonder. “Cubs,” he says, whispering as if he almost can’t believe it. “Cubs.”

“That’s right,” I say, stroking his mane idly with one hand. The other is resting atop my still-modest tummy. I think to the cubs growing in there. In the picture Hojo showed me, they were little more than indistinct grey blobs. But I think of them with their tiny paws and their small, tufted tails. I think of little muzzles mewling at their mother, nuzzling up to my chest for nourishment.

Is it strange, that such a thought leaves me… warm? Motherly? Is it strange that my offspring are animals and I _like_ the thought?

 _Not animals,_ I chide myself. _Neither them nor their father. Just because they’re not human doesn’t make them animals. After all, you’re not human either._

It’s true. The fact that I’m carrying Red’s offspring is proof enough of that. No human woman could ever be impregnated by the likes of him.

So I sit there in my den, Red purring and eying my belly with wonder, and I think to the fact that my children and their father are furry, quadrupedal, tailed, leonine, wolfish.

And I realize that I’m okay with that.

\---

I continue swelling dutifully.

It is nighttime, now, and the enclosure has darkened, the air a soft violet in a simulation of the night sky I may well never truly see again. I am laying in the grass outside our den, cupping one of my slowly-growing and ever-tender breasts while the other has snaked around my belly to find my own snatch.

“Ahh… ahhhhn,” I sigh, bliss strumming through me as I fondle and knead my own tit in time with the light, shallow thrustings from my own finger. I have long since gotten over how often I pleasure myself, or how frequently Nanaki and I have sex—it’s not as if Shinra gives us anything else to do, and this enclosure, once so seemingly vast and expansive, has become a tiny prison. It has only been a few months and I already know every corner.

Arousal rocks through me as I attend to myself. My eyes are half-lidded, taking in the dusky light. Almost teasingly, I rub the tip of my thumb on my flushed and aroused clit and am rewarded with a thunderfall of immense bliss that races through me like a runaway train. My voice trails out of me, ragged, and my body begs me to continue—

But I don’t. After all, this isn’t the main event. Just preparations.

Rising on legs of jelly, I turn and meander my way back into the den. My gait is not quite yet a full waddle, but I am nowhere near as assured or graceful as I was before Nanaki knocked me up. It’s strange—considering that the cubs have been growing continuously in me, you’d think I’d have grown used to their weight by now, but sometimes I stand and find myself almost toppling thanks to my newly shifted sense of balance.

The den is dark and inviting, and I can see my lion’s eyes glinting in the shadows. The rest of him is an outline, little more than dark shapes—but I imagine I see the tapering slope of his penis, the tiny bead of pre at the tip. He was to have prepared himself earlier.

I turn and drop to my hands and knees. The sensation is unlike how it was when he impregnated me: my womb is weighing me down, causing me to sink lower and brace myself harder against the floor.

“I’m yours, Nanaki,” I whisper, my voice filling the den.

“I know you are,” he replies, his voice like a low-burning fire, so deep and warm and inviting. I hear him pad over to me; he mounts me moments later, the action coming easy to both of us now, almost second nature. His paws find their familiar place on my shoulders and I barely have to prepare myself. There’s little need for him to go searching for my pussy now. He’s well acquainted with it.

He sinks in and I melt. Both of us had gotten ourselves prepared and aroused, so we are ready for a fun session. He quickly speeds up, going at a rough, breakneck pace, his cock pistoning in and out of me, back and forth again—over and over.

“Breed me, my lion,” I whisper. He growls in the affirmative and takes me even harder.

I keen and part of me wonders what the Aerith of even half a year ago would think of this, seeing her own self, a belly swollen with furry young as she is willingly mounted and fucked by a creature that walked out of legend.

 _She wouldn’t understand,_ I muse.

His barbs drag the inside of my tunnel and I begin to sob with pleasure, the bite is so _sweet_ and so incredible, it’s almost addicting. “Faster,” I beg him. “Faster, my mate.”

Nanaki goes faster.

I think of Zack, my beautiful soldier who gave me so much happiness and then vanished forever. I had never even considered bearing his children at the time, but now, with Nanaki’s cubs nestled warm in my belly, I realize what a silly hangup it was. Hojo was right—I’m a natural-born mother, built for making offspring. If only he and I had taken that step…

Nanaki is thrusting faster in me now and his growl is peaking. I can feel him throbbing in me. “Knot me,” I beg, and he delivers, howling to the heavens as he hilts in me and floods me with cum and swells in me, tying us together. The sensation is enough to send me over the edge and I sink against the floor of our den, shaky with orgasm.

Thinking of motherhood leads me to recollect my mother, Elmyra. I hope that she survived the collapse of Sector 7. I imagine what she would say if she saw me now: her adopted daughter, already plumping up with young.

She took in a young Cetra who had nowhere else to go. She’d be accepting of me, and of my cubs.

 _I hope to see you again, mother,_ I think ruefully.

I can feel Nanaki shifting, his knot still tight in me. “What’s wrong?” he says with concern.

Blinking, I realize how misty the world seems. I’m crying. “It’s not you,” I say, and explain how much I miss my mom.

He listens attentively. “I forget that you have people to return to,” he says when I’m done. “That woman, your friends in AVALANCHE. I hope… I hope you can escape.”

“As do I,” I whisper. I sometimes wonder what happened to Cloud and the other freedom fighters. Hojo has left cryptic hints during my checkups that they encountered someone with a name like ‘Phiros’ and have been pursuing him. Sometimes, at night, I dream of the Lifestream. I dream of it turning a sickly, diseased green, and of a cruel-eyed man staring at me from across the river of souls.

“I don’t know where AVALANCHE is,” I say. “But I have faith that they’ll come rescue us someday.”

“ _Us?_ ” Nanaki asks wryly.

“Us,” I emphasize. “Even if I get the opportunity, I’m not leaving here without you.” The thought of Nanaki, all alone again with Hojo—a furious Hojo—is almost more than I can bear. He’s too proud, too noble, too pure a soul to risk in such a way. “And if AVALANCHE doesn’t come, we’ll figure something out. But Nanaki, I’m _not_ going to leave you alone again. If I escape, it’s with you…” And I trail down my hand to my belly. “And them.”

Nanaki is quiet in the way that I have come to learn means he is processing emotions. Then he leans in and gently licks me. I half giggle, half moan at the sensation. He dra-a-a-a-a-gs his tongue up and down, regularly lapping at my back, my arms, my thighs, even my breasts. I am left adrift in bliss as he shows thanks in his own way.

As I drift into slumber (Nanaki’s knot still comfortably inside me; we are sleeping this way more and more, lately) I reflect that though the way he shows it is different, Nanaki really isn’t that much different than a partner—a lover.

 _And why can’t he be?_ I ask myself frankly. It seems pointless to avoid taking that plunge, considering how often we sleep together and how I’m bearing his children (and, if Hojo has his way, will likely continue to do so). Yet, I’ve avoided that mental leap.

But now I realize that I care about Nanaki—not just because he is a fellow test subject, or because he is the last of his kind, or even because he is the father of my children. But because we _are_ partners, and have been for a while.

And I rock myself to blissful sleep, a smile on my face, as my partner knots me and licks me and fills me with children.

\---

The monitors and nodes and diodes are cool and biting against my flesh. I sit there on a sparse, paper-covered cot, my belly—I am now halfway along and already quite sizable—forcing my legs apart. I caress it with both hands, idly strumming my fingers across it to soothe me.

In front of me, Hojo sits, eying the monitors. The further I progress, the more closely he monitors the health of me and my babies.

“You’re doing well so far,” he says, turning to me with a smile. If you didn’t know what he was and what he wanted, he might have been mistaken for any awkward but well-meaning medical doctor. “You and your young both.”

I nod, my mouth tight. I try to interact with him as little as possible. Part of me wonders what the point even is; it’s not like I’ve ever shown any danger signs in any of these checkups.

“You know,” Hojo says, ignoring my attempts to disengage with him, “you Cetra really are natural-born breeders.”

I stiffen up and try not to hide it. He doesn’t deserve the satisfaction of seeing me upset. But he notices, of course. He’s quite perceptive.

“So touchy,” he says with a cruel laugh, one of the few inflections he gives me. “Why insulted, Cetra?”

That’s what he calls me, almost exclusively—like how Nanaki is ‘Red’. I’ve realized it’s a way for him to avoid the stodginess of using our numerical assignments without honoring the names we actually go by.

He eyes me, looking for a response, and continues. “Why so insulted?” he repeats. “Just look at you.” He waves a loose gesture at me that somehow takes in the totality of my being: not just my ever-growing belly, of course, but also my slowly widening hips and thighs, my modestly swelling breasts, even my smooth face. No one could look at me now and think I was anything but a mother-to-be. “Such a malleable, flexible, fertile womb. That such a thing could exist in this world.”

Hojo pulls a pen from his lab coat and starts fiddling with it. “But I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Dragons, serpents, giant birds… a number of fabulous creatures exist in this world. We call them ‘monsters’ and rightly so, given how dangerous they are.” His mouth barely twitches into a smile, but I can see the cruel amusement in his eyes. “That beast of yours… a long-lived mishmash of different species that plays at language and culture and is undoubtedly dangerous if he wants to be. Yes, he deserves the moniker too. Monster.”

He’s provoking me. I can feel it. And the worst thing is, it’s working. I can feel my face paling, and my hands, still clutching my belly, are tense with anger.

This bastard of a man works for a company that massacred thousands. He abducted me, ordered me _bred_ without my say, has mocked and belittled both me and Nanaki, and now he has the audacity to stand here and mock the one person in the world who I can rely on? Whose children I am literally carrying, on _Hojo’s_ orders, nonetheless?

I hate him. I _hate_ him.

He sees my anger and pushes on. I don’t know why. To gauge an increased heart rate? Or just to spite me? “How does it feel, Cetra,” he says, a barest current of mockery swimming along under his voice, “to be reduced to this? To take monster cock day after day? To convince yourself that he _cares_ about you? That he’s anything but what he is?” And then he nods at my belly. “How does it feel to be nothing more than a _vessel_ for monster children? When you squeeze those creatures out and feel their muzzles tugging at you for drink, are you going to pretend like they’re people? Like they’re not monsters?”

His voice hangs in the air like I knife and I realize at this moment that I could lunge forward, gravid or no, and grab that pen out of his hands and drive it into his eye, his jugular, his heart and I wouldn’t feel a thing and the only thing stopping me is knowing that they’d make Nanaki suffer or worse.

So instead I look this grinning nightmare of a man in the eyes and say, as flat as I can, “the only monster here is you.”

\---

When I wake up in the dead of night it is to dedicated movement inside of me.

It’s not the first twinge of movement I’ve felt. There have been whispers here, little spats of activity there. But this is the first time it seems so consistent, so omnipresent, that it really sinks in:

There’s life in me. There’s _babies_ in me.

I rest like that for minutes, rubbing my hands over my smooth, taut skin, feeling the movements of my young swirling in me like eddies in a brook. They’re so small, yet already so energetic, so feisty. I can’t even imagine what they’re going to be like once they’re born. Will they be spunky? Pugnacious? Will their personalities take more after me, or their father?

So many questions, yet I can’t wait to hold them in my arms.

And then reality strikes like a serpent and I suddenly begin wracking with sobs.

The movement and the noise wakes Nanaki, who presses against me urgently. “What’s wrong, Aerith?” he asks, his voice laced with concern. There’s not even the barest hint of drowsiness to it.

“Our—o-our—our y-young,” I stammer out.

“What about them?” he asks. I can hear the worry in his voice being carefully beaten down—he’s afraid something has happened to them, but needs to present a strong front, for his mate.

“They’re going to t-take them,” I say, and I turn and sob into the soft fur on his chest. “They’re going to take my babies away!”

It’s something we’ve both known; hell, we’ve both _discussed_ its inevitability. But only now, with their vibrance so tactile in my womb, does it truly sink in:

They’re my babies, and they’re going to be taken from me.

There’s nothing Nanaki can say to ease this hurt. This pain is almost too much to bear. I hold against him, sobbing inconsolably, knotting my fingers in his fur. His paw rests on the small of my back and holds me close, a small gesture of comfort. “I know,” he says, his voice laden with regret and understanding. “I know. I know.”

“It’s not—f-f-fair!” I say, burying deeper against him. “My birth mom, Elmyra, Zack, my friends in AVALANCHE—everyone in my life who I care about always gets t-taken from me! Nanaki, why?” I continue sobbing against him, the tears running like rivers down my cheeks. One of my arms snakes around my belly as if that alone will be a sufficient barrier to stop Shinra from taking my babies.

But it won’t. It won’t be.

“I’m a _flower girl!_ ” I protest—to who, I don’t know. “All I want is a simple and happy life, I don’t want much, so—so why! Why are they always taken from me! _Why!_ ”

“…Aerith, I…” Nanaki says, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant. “I can’t stop them from taking our young. But as—as long as you’re here, with me, I won’t let them separate us. I swear it.” I hear him swallow, and then his voice hardens, becomes resolute. “As long as I live, you’ll never be alone again.”

My sobs catch, and I hiccup pathetically—but I turn my watery eyes up to him, and I see him gazing back, one eye golden like ripe wheat, the other scarred and slightly greyed from Hojo’s abuse. And I think how selfish I must seem, crying out about my loss to a creature who lost his mother, his father, his adopted parent, and his homeland all to Shinra’s predatory curiosity, and I realize that he means what he says.

Before I know what I’m doing I surge up and my lips meet his muzzle in a move that neither of us are anticipating. I can feel his shock, but he parts his lips and lets me explore him as best I can. The kiss is sloppy, unfamiliar, and hampered by our distinctly unique anatomy—but when it is done I pull away, my tears dried, and I see him panting, locking gazes with me.

“You won’t be alone either,” I return. “I swear it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! You can check me out on Twitter if you want c:
> 
> (https://twitter.com/FestivalGrey)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s time! Time for the penultimate chapter! Thanks to everyone who’s been reading so far. I'm glad you enjoy my foray into "beast porn but also it's romance 😌"

I’m now in my third trimester.

When I walk, it is with an ungainly, awkward waddle, a laborious process that more often than not leaves me cradling my tight, swollen belly with one hand. Nanaki enjoys seeing me lurch about and gently teases me over it, to which I sometimes lightly bop him on his nose or ruffle his mane. More often than not, though, he leans into the crook where my breasts meet my belly, purring, or gifts me with small, delicate licks on my belly that drag so very sweetly on the taut skin. Sometimes when he does this, our young squirm and tumble in response, and I rest there with one hand in my mate’s fur and the other gently caressing my tummy, basking in their movement.

But I rarely walk, now. Instead, I prefer to rest in and around the den. Right now, I am sitting on a flat stone by the nearby book. Nanaki is padding through the nearby flower field, and it would be a perfect afternoon were it not for the scientists on the far end of the glass, observing and cataloguing our movements.

I try to banish them from my mind. There are more pressing matters to attend to. My breasts—which are nice and swollen, at least a full cup size from what they were before—ache. They’ve been tender throughout my pregnancy, as to be expected, with certain days being worse than others. But the past half-week or so has been a never-ceasing, mounting tide of tenderness that refuses to abate. Now there’s a pressure in them that won’t go away.

Nanaki finishes his activity and pads over to me, his tail swishing in concern. “What’s the matter?” he asks.

I eye him, trying not to hiss at the aching sensation as I gently knead my breasts. “They’re so—sore,” I say, grunting. “I can’t—a-ah…”

He huffs a heavy breath out his nostrils and then pads closer to me. “I think I might try to help,” he says. “If…”

“Do it,” I hiss, and he complies.

His muzzle gently, so gently nips at one of my tits—not enough to hurt, not really, but enough for me to gasp and squirm from the sensation. He maneuvers his mouth with incredible tenderness until my nipple is within, and then—

He starts to suck.

I moan at the sensation as my body’s feedback starts kicking into overdrive. It feels like every single nerve ending has been spurred into a hot-footed dance, and before long my whole breast, nipple and all, is afire with needlepoint sensations that mix pain and sweet, sweet pleasure so thoroughly that it threatens to drive me wild.

“N-Nanaki,” I pant out, resting one hand on the back of his neck, “it’s too—too much—” But he shoots me a silent, pleading look to just trust him, and my protests die as I acquiesce.

Before long I gasp as a small trickle starts to flow out. It’s scarcely more than the small dribblings I’ve had off and on for the past month or so, but consistent, and an extremely surreal sensation.

And then, after a few more minutes of dedicated sucking, the dam finally breaks, and my aching breast releases its bounty. Milk surges out of me, a river-like flow that is not roaring or rushing, but dedicated and firm. I hear Nanaki purr as he starts to drink it down, and I lean back with a relieved sigh.

The sensation of having my mate nurse from me… it’s unlike anything I could have described. Foremost was relief, as the pressure of my overburdened, milk-swollen breasts was finally given an outlet, and the sweet ache of my oversensitive, overstimulated nipples was more than worth the sheer bliss of release. But more than that, I found the sensation—the regular tugging of Nanaki’s muzzle against my chest, the regular flow, the _feel_ of being a lifegiver—to be oddly, curiously intimate. A strange feeling blossomed throughout me and as I leaned back, Nanaki drinking from me, I felt a tingly sensation winding from my chest into the rest of me. It was warm, like dying embers, and I felt the heat begin to bud down in my loins despite myself. By now, Nanki had switched to my other teat, and the sense of relief was unparalleled. I was content to just lie there as he eased my tautness.

When he finally pulled up, panting, he locked eyes with me, and I didn’t need to see between his legs to know that he was a little worked up from this. I reached up to cup my hand against the side of his muzzle. “Thank you,” I murmured, and he pressed into my hand in response. “I might ask you to do this every few days until they’re born… maybe daily in the lead-up to it.”

“Happily,” Nanaki says, his voice like melted chocolate, so deep and sweet.

Still leaning back, I gently squirm my pregnant bulk underneath him so that my pussy is in a more ideal spot, and then I spread my legs.

“Please,” I whisper, and he doesn’t need telling twice. We make love there by the side of the brook, our bodies rocking as one.

\---

More days pass like winter into spring, and I plump up like a berry. I can’t imagine it’s long, now. A week at most, perhaps. I feel ripe, taut, _ready_ —I can’t imagine that my babies aren’t prepared to squirm their way out of me either. Or perhaps they have reservations, preferring to nestle in the warm, familiar comfort of my safe, warm womb rather than the perils of the world outside.

But they couldn’t be. They’ll be like their father. Brave. Forthright. Ready to face the world.

I rarely leave the den anymore, and even when it’s time for my checkups, more often than not the scientists have to come and fetch me. (Nanaki was not happy with that arrangement, but I convinced him not to attack provided they behaved themselves.) Despite the fact that my enormity draws more and more eyes than ever, I find myself no longer as prudish and willing to hide my form as I used to be. I’ve settled comfortably into my new role. Lush—fertile—bred. I am the mother of Nanaki’s children, and I don’t mind if they read that role in the plump milkiness of my breasts or the gravid globe of my stomach.

But although I rarely leave, today, with Nanaki’s help, I have managed to hobble outside, one arm supporting my enormous, hanging belly. I am far larger than a normal human would be at the end of her pregnancy, just shy of twice as large—our cubs are individually smaller than a human child, but Hojo says we can expect four of them, and my belly has grown to match. With Nanaki’s help, I wend my way to a hillside covered with soft grass that waves in the caress of the summer breeze. Nanaki eases me onto my back, and I coo as he nudges open my legs.

“Are you certain?” he asks. Always such concern; he makes for a great mate. He’ll make for an even better father.

“Just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean I’m not horny,” I say. I eye him from my position. “Nanaki, I’ve hungered for your cock for too long.” His tail thrashes in response and I glow with delight. “Eat me out,” I say. “Gently, gently.”

He complies. Ohhhhhhh, the contrast between his rough, sandy tongue and the sheer loving delicateness with which he drags it over me, tenderly lapping circles around my plump clit and teasing open my labia. I almost can’t stand it. I want to arch my back, to knot my fingers in the grass, to push into him—but I’m too large, too pregnant to do anything other than gently sway from side to side and slowly _nnnnnn_ from behind my lips. They’re getting fuller, or so I hear. Nanaki whispers to me of how I’m gradually changing with pregnancy.

After a few minutes of Nanaki’s tongue gently ministering to me, the sensual bliss crashing regularly like waves upon the sand, I stop him with a whispered word. “Enough, my lion,” I say. “Enough foreplay.” I spread my legs just a titch farther, giving him ease of access to my flushed, waiting pussy. “Claim your mate.”

He meets my proposition with a happy chuff, and as he angles himself, he braces his paws on my belly, resting them gently. Ah, the touch—my skin is so sensitive that even the barest brush of his fur and paw pads against my belly sends shivers of delight skittering through me.

But I can only focus on such sensations briefly. He pushes into me, his cock thick and barbed, and my breath leaves me in a blissful sigh as my eyes flutter. Nanaki holds in me for a moment, both of us enjoying the totality of it all—and then he starts to fuck me good.

His pace is slow and smoky, a deep, sensual, lover’s tempo. Every push, every delighted drag leaves me hungry for more, and he’s more than happy to oblige. His slow pushes in are something to be savored, and his long drags out leave me praising his name as his barbs stimulate the inside of my cunt.

 _So much,_ I think dazedly amidst it all. _We’ve made so much love these past months._ And yet I don’t tire of it. How could I? Nanaki is the best lover a girl could ask for.

Gradually, without being asked, he picks up his pace, and it’s all I never knew I wanted. “Oh,” I say as his cock bumps into me, the smooth and inviting fur of his loins rubbing close against my own. “Nanaki, I—ohhhhhh…”

“Aerith,” he pants, bucking against me. It’s an incredible sight—a handsome, beautiful creature, wolflike and lionlike and yet unlike them both, proud and intelligent and orange like a summer sunset, perched on my belly, gripping it just so. That sight is buoyed even further by the fact that it’s _his_ young nestled in my womb, _his_ cubs, and I find myself blushing at the realization of how thoroughly I’ve been bred, been claimed. I am his—his hole to fill, his womb to seed, his mate to fuck and knot and fill with children.

But then, if I’m his, then he’s mine, too.

“Faster,” I say. “ _Harder._ ”

And he doesn’t need any more encouragement than that. His pace picks up as he ruts me more and more passionately, and before long, I’m reeling from bliss, my whole body _rocking_ as he fucks me full-force. Every push, every drag, they bleed into each other, one after the next after the next … all roiling together into a single symphony of wondrous pleasure. I feel sensation in my breasts—our activity is stimulating them. Small trickles of milk are trailing down, following my maternal curves.

Maybe it’s the tenderness of my hormone-addled body, but I seem to be getting close extra fast today, and when Nanaki finally hilts in me, howling as his knot swells my sopping cunt, that’s all it takes for me to orgasm, my eyes rolling in the back of my head as my pussy flutters uselessly, trying fruitlessly to clench down on his ever-swelling knot. Nanaki himself spurts more of his hot cum directly into me.

He stays knotted in me as he lays his head upon my stomach, slowly moving his paws over it. I feel the rumble of a small purr, and the knowledge fills me with warmth and pride.

Who could ever want more than this?

\---

Later that same evening, after Nanaki has helped support me as I waddle my way back into our den, I wake once more to movement within my belly.

It’s grown to be a regular occurrence, that. I don’t mind it much. It keeps me close to them. Connected.

Tonight they are _especially_ active, and despite myself I coo and giggle as I feel them tumbling and squirming within me. One of them acts up and I gasp as I see little bumps on my exposed tummy in the glooming light.

Nanaki shifts behind me and for a moment I wonder if I’ve woken him—but then I realize that he’s been awake for a while.

“Evening,” I say, rubbing my hands over my belly.

“Evening,” he replies. He slowly rises and pads around to my front, eying my lush, swollen stomach with wonder. He raises his head, his eyes meeting mine in query, and I nod. He wants to show affection to our little ones.

Nanki’s tongue dips low, brushing my stomach, and then slowly sliiiiiiiiiiiides up, dragging so slowly, so sweetly, that it almost drives me mad with stimulation. I feel every drag, every brush as his sandpaper tongue stimulates my already sensitive skin.

Our cubs respond to their father’s touch with more activity. I gasp quietly, color blooming in my cheeks as I feel them squirming and tossing inside of me. They’re already so active—I can imagine them putting that energy to good use, rushing through the long grasses and bounding over each other in wild fits of play. I wonder, is that a paw pressing against me, causing a bump on my belly that Nanaki meets with a gentle, loving lick? Or is it a muzzle, a tiny tail?

“Nanaki…” I murr, whispering his name to the quiet den, and he meets me with a purr, picking up his loving licks, trailing them all across my belly until every inch of my roundness burns with a tired sweetness, sheened from his attentions and affections.

How long do I bask there, luxuriating in the dual sensations of my babies moving within me, my mate gently attending to them? I can’t rightly say. All I know is that joy—not sexual pleasure, but real, intense, euphoric joy—is winding through me.

After our cubs quiet down, Nanaki nuzzles close to me, nudging me with his muzzle. I can feel the low carburetor rumble of his purr as I stroke his fur, my eyes half-lidded.

It seems the right time to say it.

“Nanaki?” I say, reaching around to cup the side of his head. His one good eye meets mine, golden like the dawn.

“Mm?”

“I… I love you,” I say to him.

He doesn’t respond, but his eye still meets mine, wide and searching.

“I mean it, Nanaki,” I say, wrapping my arms around his neck to hold him close. “I love you so much. You _and_ our cubs.” Without prompting he rests one gentle paw on my belly and I shiver as the intimacy of it.

“I want more,” I say, voicing desires I’ve considered and settled on lately. “More cubs. I’ll bear your children for as long as you let me. I—I love you. I love _us_.”

He looks elated—but then his gaze turns away. “Shinra caged us together. That’s why…”

“ _Fuck_ Shinra,” I growl, yanking his attention back to me. “And fuck Hojo. Fuck the whole lot of them! Don’t misunderstand me, Nanaki. I don’t want to spend my days here in this building. I don’t want to be their test subject. I want to be _free_ again. And I will be. With you, and our cubs, and—and then you can take us back to Cosmo Canyon. You can take us _home._ And we’ll all live there together, a family, you and your mate and your cubs.”

He meets my face again, his eyes wide. “You… you really mean it, don’t you,” he says.

“I do,” I whisper, and then I hold tight to him. “I don’t know how, but we’ll get out someday. And when we do, I’ll stay by your side. I’ll bear your children. Because we’re _mates,_ Nanaki. You’re the most beautiful creature in the world, and I don’t want to be anywhere unless you’re there too.”

He looks at me for a moment and then he sinks into me, and this proud, noble, deep-voiced creature is sobbing. “Thank you,” he says, his voice tight with emotion. “Aerith, I… I love you too. I have for so long, but I never—I never thought you could love a beast like me…”

“A beast? You?” I say, rubbing my hands through his fur. My own voice is tight. “Nanaki, you dolt. You’re no beast. You’re a blessing.”

\---

The contractions start only a few days after that. The first one sneaks up on me a few hours before, surprising me like an adder’s bite and making me squeak. Thankfully, Nanaki is not around to spy it, nor do the scientists seem to pick up on it. I retreat to our den, now knowing what to expect, and when the new contractions come every thirty minutes or so, this time I’m ready, letting them roll through me with a low, soft moan.

My body continues preparing itself as the day stretches on, and by the time night settles down on us, I barely react to them with more than an exhalation of breath. Nanaki curls against me, the bigger spoon as always, and quickly nods into slumber.

I wait, and wait.

It’s an hour or so before midnight when I gently shake him awake. My lover quickly blinks himself out of slumber and looks at me queryingly.

All I have to say is “it’s time.”

Quietly, wordlessly, we maneuver around our den, though both of us are first-time parents. I position myself on my hands and knees, grunting at the weight of my belly pulling me down. Nanaki paces around me, giving me space but ready to intervene the moment I ask him.

My mind is racing a million miles a minute, but I force it to quiet and follow my maternal instincts. I slowly start to rock my hips, moaning at the sensation. The movement seems to help my entrance open just a bit farther. “Okay,” I breathe out, biting my lower lip. The urge to push is on me. “Okay. I can do this.”

The contractions have picked up by now, coming regular like a drumbeat, and on the next one, I _push._

I feel one of our cubs settle into me, stretching me, and I choke back a sob. Our cubs can’t be _that_ big, and yet the sensation is so, so _huge_ —I can barely stand it! I lay there, quivering, the sensation of my child just starting to stretch my birth canal, and then the contraction comes on me again and I _push_ and the cub settles lower and I sink, quivering, sobbing because it’s such a deep, incredible ache.

Nanaki is on me, his tail swishing back and forth with worry. “Are you alright, Aerith?” he asks.

“Hurts,” I manage to force out behind my teeth. “Hurts so—so—”

I let the words die. There’s too much to focus on. I give myself to my instincts, losing track of time as I push, push, _push._ I feel liquid, hot and viscous, leaking from my cunt and trailing down my thigh, and with every push my cub slides lower, stretching me farther and farther. My whole world is nothing but stretches and pushes until—

A sudden pressure at my entrance. My breath hitches high, and I wordlessly cry out for Nanaki. He rushes around, leaning in so close I can feel his breath on my cunt. I grunt and squeeze, my pussy slowly stretching open until I can _feel_ it coming loose, my cub. When it’s partway out, Nanaki surprises me by leaning in and gently nipping our cub by the scruff on the back of its neck. The little thing squeals— _and oh Lifestream and spirits that’s my baby’s voice my baby is chirping and warbling into the world I’ve done it I’ve brought in new life_ —and then Nanaki, with a firm yet gentle pull, tugs it out of me and I’m left gasping from the sudden emptiness. My cunt aches and I dip my head between my legs. In the upside-down world that results, I see Nanaki licking off our cub. It’s small, about two-thirds the size of a human newborn, with wet reddish-brown fur and a long tail like its father’s. My baby’s paws are kneading fruitlessly at the air and its voice fills the den as Nanaki keeps licking it.

I’ve never seen a more beautiful sight in my life.

But there isn’t much time to wait. Another weight settles in and I resume pushing.

Partway through my ordeal, Nanaki takes our newly-cleaned cub and deposits it right beneath my hanging breasts. The little one’s searching mouth quickly finds a nipple and I sob as the milk flows free. My newborn is suckling me and I’m feeding new life for the first time, and the sensation is indescribable. It’s pure motherhood, raw maternal bliss, and I find myself weeping with joy that overtakes me and speeds along the whole process. By the time our second cub is breaching, ready for Nanaki to help pull it out as he did the first, our firstborn is finished drinking and is now curled against itself in slumber against the wall of the den, fat-bellied with mother’s milk.

The third is even easier than the second, and the fourth still, and by the time the sun rises, I am no longer a mother-to-be.

I don’t know what it is that prompts Shinra that the day has finally arrived. Maybe it’s that neither of us have left the den despite their false morning shining over the enclosure. Maybe it’s the fact that neither of us have collected our breakfast. Or maybe they just have a camera in the den itself.

Whatever the reason, it’s not long after dawn that we hear them coming. Scientists grunt, wriggling into our den, scribbling away on clipboards or hurriedly tapping info into devices. They look rushed, frustrated. I imagine they wanted to observe the birth firsthand, perhaps ensure I bore my children in a sterile, clean lab.

Well. There was a _reason_ I kept it quiet until late at night.

Hojo is the last to arrive, and for once, his face bears no smugness. I can see it in the thin line of his mouth, the way his nostrils flare, his hands clenched so tight that his fingernails dig into his palms. He feels cheated from a proper scientific observation. He wanted to see me give birth.

I lay there, weary and prone from my long night’s labor, cuddling two cubs against me. Each one has latched onto a teat and is sucking away diligently, the milk coming smooth. Near me, Nanaki is curled around the other two, both dozing against their father. His tail is wrapped protectively around them.

I look at Hojo and despite my bone-deep weariness, despite lying there, naked, caked in birthing juices, I feel triumph. This is my family. This was _my_ labor. And I gave birth on my terms, not his. And though I feel inclined to say something, our eyes meet and I sense the anger and frustration in him and I realize that there’s no need.

Fleeting it might be, but I won. And so I lean back with a happy sigh, glad to feel my young kneading against me as they suckle from my milky breasts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! There's gonna be one last chapter that'll drop a mere two days before the remake's release date. Keep excited--I know I am!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s finally here! The last installment! I want to thank everyone who followed and loved this story... this was supposed to be a simple smut piece that I fell in love with, and it grew in the telling. It was very fun to write, and I hoped it hyped you for the remake as much as it did me. 
> 
> Enjoy, and stay safe :)

Our cubs grow fast, and despite the fact that Hojo was deprived of observing their birth, in the end he still controls what happens in his lab. A little under a year after they were born—when they were weaned and active and bright-eyed, always willing to chase each other through the enclosure or nuzzle up, purring, against their mother—they are taken away, and my fear from so long ago is realized.

Hojo expects more from us and demands that Nanaki and I breed once more, as if we haven’t had sex regularly already. As his seed once again takes hold and my belly swells with yet more life, we hold each other in the night and whisper stories of freedom.

Sometimes in my pregnancies, my dreams show me the visions that they had before. I am in the Lifestream again and that ashen-haired, cold-eyed man is gazing at me from across the sea of spirits. At times, flitting around the edge of the dreams, I can sense the others on the border of the Lifestream: Cloud, Tifa, Barret, and others besides.

I call out to them and sometimes I almost imagine they answer.

Days bleed into weeks bleed into months and soon I am ripe as a berry and once again I bring forth a litter. It’s smaller this time, a pair of twins, both girls, and I hold them close to my chest and let them suckle at me and I try not to get too attached because Hojo will take them away except no, I’m their mother and these are my _children,_ and when they’re taken away, too young to speak words but old enough that their bright eyes still look at me sadly, I hope they remember me as I’ll remember them.

How long have I spent here, a captive of Shinra? How many years have Nanaki and I been laying together in the warmth of our den? I can’t know. Not too long, for I am only partway along my third pregnancy now—but yes, too long, since we are captives. At night he whispers to me of Cosmo Canyon.

And I dream of the Lifestream.

I can’t say what about the dream this time is different. Maybe it’s my young in me acting up, causing my Cetra abilities to spike. Maybe I’m simply growing stronger as I age. Maybe it’s nothing more than a freak accident, a chance of nature.

But this time, when I dream of the river of souls, I see the cold-eyed man being chased by Cloud, and it strikes me that this _isn’t_ a dream, this is Cloud, it’s _him,_ and when the spectre of the man in black leaves, Cloud turns and _sees_ me and I can see him and everything stops.

“…my god,” he breathes. “Aerith?”

“Cloud,” I say, suddenly conscious of how I look. Completely nude, belly swollen with life, a far cry from the innocent, virginal flower girl he knew.

Strange. Why should I care so much of the opinion of someone I only knew for a few days?

“I know what kind of dream this is,” Cloud says slowly, shaking his head and blushing. Ah. So he has _those_ kind of dreams, does he? (Of course he does. He has a penis, after all.)

“No, Cloud,” I say gently. “It’s real.”

That’s enough to convince him. I suspect he’s grown wiser in his journeys. “We thought you had died in Midgar, when Sector 7 fell.” His gaze sweeps up and down my body, taking in my current… condition. “What _happened_ to you?” he asks.

I sigh, cradling my belly with one hand while aimlessly trailing the other through the Lifestream. The forest-green glow of soul energy plays around my fingers.

“Shinra,” I say. “They took me. It turns out I’m the last of the Cetra, and they got a bright idea to try and breed more.” I see Cloud’s face pale. “Well,” I say, somewhat bitterly, “it seems my womb insists on delivering children like their father instead. Not that Shinra minds that much in the end.”

“It’s been years,” he says, slowly. I see him clenching and unclenching his hands, processing what was done to me. “How—how many—”

He is unable to finish the question, so I do it for him. “This is my third litter.”

 _“Litter?_ ” he spurts out in disbelief. Afterwards, he at least has the decency to look chastised.

“The father of my children isn’t exactly human,” I say, “though I suppose I’m not exactly human either.” Strange, to be speaking about it so openly. I really _had_ changed. “And what about you, Cloud? Who is that man I saw?”

“Sephiroth,” he spits out, his voice as venomous as possible. “Shinra’s most dangerous experiment gone rogue. He wants to use a forbidden spell to wound the planet with a meteor. The planet would send the Lifestream to patch up the impact site, and…”

“And if he was at ground zero,” I say, suddenly realizing the plan of the cruel-faced man, “he’d achieve virtual godhood.”

“He’s been one step ahead of us,” Cloud continued, “but we’ve finally got him. We’re going to face off soon before he has a chance to seize the materia that will give him the spell.” He swallows. “And then—Aerith, I’m sorry, we thought you were _dead._ I know it won’t stop what was done to you, but—”

“Apologizing?” I say, putting some of my old bite back into my voice. “For what, Cloud? If that man really is going to drop a meteor on the planet, then I can wait.”

He eases and nods.

“But please,” I say, finally letting the hope rise in my breast after so, so long, “don’t forget about me.”

“I won’t,” he says, his voice flinty. “I’ll free you, Aerith, from Shinra and their scientists and whatever monsters they abuse you with.”

The reaction from me is instantaneous— _Nanaki? My Nanaki? A monster? How dare—_ but no. I force myself to calm. Cloud, poor ignorant Cloud, doesn’t know any better.

“My mate is as intelligent as you or I, Cloud,” I say. “He refused to force himself on me even on pain of death. I chose this willingly to save him. He’s kind and gentle and wise and as much a victim as I am.” As I spoke, my fervent passion infused my words, and I could feel the Lifestream swirling around me. “I—I love him, Cloud,” I say. “I do. I don’t expect you to understand. But please. When you and your comrades take on Shinra, if you see any creatures that look like reddish-brown lions with some wolf features, leave them alone and they won’t hurt you. If it’s not Nanaki, then it’ll be—t-they’re my—”

“…your children,” Cloud finishes. He nods slowly. “I promise, Aerith.”

And then the Lifestream eddies around us, obscuring him from view, but as I wake, I believe that promise, and I whisper to Nanaki that for the first time, I have hope.

It takes a while for Cloud to hunt down the man in black. A few weeks, perhaps a month, as my cubs slowly grow. I’m approaching my third trimester, now.

But I don’t stop hoping. It’s going to change this time, I know it. And before long, Cloud keeps his promise.

It’s a day like any other when Shinra goes into high alert. Claxons wail and sirens paint the enclosure a kaleidoscope of colors and distant explosions rumble through the building. Nanaki shepherds me across the enclosure to a safe spot, pacing in front of his mate and growling.

Me, though, I’m not afraid. I’m ready.

The fighting gradually moves up to our level and I have to calm Nanaki by running my hands through his fur. “They’re here for our benefit,” I tell him. “Don’t attack them, Nanaki. Let me do the talking.”

Eventually a spell of massive power breaches the enclosure wall and in the aftermath is a silence so fierce it almost roars.

A series of steps rings out through the enclosure, boots crunching over glass, and then I see them.

AVALANCHE. I recognize Cloud and Tifa and Barret, but there are others as well—a robotic toy, a tall gaunt man in crimson, a young girl wearing the cloth of Wutai, a grouchy man smoking a cigarette.

Heedless of my nakedness (I’ve long since grown numb to strangers seeing my body, considering how often Hojo and his scientists were leering at me) I approach the group, smiling. Nanaki trails after me and I can almost sense his unease.

Poor guy. He’ll come around eventually.

“Cloud,” I say, smiling, and then gasp as one of the cubs _kicks,_ a tiny bump showing itself on my tummy. AVALANCHE shifts in unease, but the first one to speak is the cigarette man whom I have never met before.

“So you’re the gally everyone’s all fuckin’ excited about?” he drawls.

I suppress a giggle. I like this guy’s forwardness. “I suppose I am. Did you beat Sephiroth?”

“We did,” Cloud answered with a nod. “It wasn’t easy.” His eyes slid past me to fixate on Nanaki, who rumbled a growl when Cloud made eye contact. “Is that…”

“Nanaki,” I supply, reaching back to placatingly run my fingers through his fur. “He’s the only reason I stayed happy and sane here. It’s _okay,_ ” I say, directing my attention to him. “They’re not with Hojo or Shinra. They won’t harm us. They’re our friends.”

“You’re certain?” he replies. The fact that he can speak draws a chorus of gasps from the members of AVALANCHE.

“Certain,” I reply.

I glance up and notice Tifa. Despite some girlish sniping over Cloud’s affections, she and I had gotten along well back when we’d fought side by side; now she was staring at my fertile belly, my swollen chest, with wide eyes.

“What will you do now?” Cloud said. “Sephiroth is gone and Shinra’s leadership scattered—some from Sephiroth and some from us. We’re thinking of trying to resettle in Midgar. You’re welcome to join. Erm, _both_ of you.”

Midgar? The city where I had spent my childhood? It was tempting.

But I had a promise to keep.

“Nanaki is from Cosmo Canyon,” I say in response. “He deserves to see it again. Our children need to know their heritage. Thank you, though, for your offer.”

Tifa blinks and meets my eyes. “Aerith, you’re… you’re _sure?_ ” she asks with no small degree of disbelief. There’s so much sentiment behind a simple question: _You do know that you don’t have to stay with this creature anymore, right?_ She seems to be saying. _Do you still want to give your life to him? To bear his children? He’s not even human!_

I can’t fault her too much. Back before my imprisonment and meeting Nanaki, I also would have thought it unthinkable that any woman could have chosen this.

But now, it’s unthinkable that I could part from my lover. My mate.

“I don’t expect you to understand what I’ve been through or why I make the decisions I do,” I say gently, but with a trace of iron firmness. Tifa blushes and looks aside. “This is what we chose.”

Cloud nods slowly. He _has_ grown up on this journey. “Alright,” he said. “I can respect that. Do you need help finding your… children?”

“If they’re in the building,” I reply, “their father should be more than up to the task.”

Nanaki leads us out of the enclosure, quickly zeroed in on the scent of ‘others like him.’ I follow in what is almost a daze. The first time I step out of the enclosure without Hojo or one of his scientists or goons manhandling me is almost a holy moment.

Free. I’m _free._

It’s been too long since I’ve seen my children, and as Nanaki leads me up higher and higher, I fret and worry that they won’t recognize their mother, or that Hojo experimented on them and turned them into monsters. What if they hate me? What if they don’t recognize me?

What if they’re not themselves anymore?

Nanaki finally stops outside of large lab just a few floors beneath us. It’s a place that was obviously a nexus of scientific activity as recently as this morning, but after AVALANCHE’s assault, it’s nearly deserted.

(“How did Hojo die?” was the last question I asked to Cloud before following Nanaki.

His hand had twitched reflexively in the direction of his sword. “Not well,” he said, his voice grim and unapologetic.

And I’d nodded. “Good.”)

There’s a metal door separating us and a large chamber with some sort of movement inside. Nanaki is pacing back and forth outside of it, looking concerned, and I fiddle with a nearby console until it slides open with a pneumatic hiss.

I almost don’t dare to look.

But as the door slides past, I see a large space with grass and rocks and trees, and huddled on the far end are six creatures, each looking so much bigger than I remember: the first four, three brothers and a sister, are gangly and lanky and nearly half the size of their father. When their eyes alight on us, uncertainty and fear melt away into recognition and awe.

And then, hesitantly, as if he can’t believe it, one of my sons steps forward and asks: “Mama?”

The tears come, then, and I kneel and beckon my children to come to me, and they bound towards me with cries of “Mama” and “Daddy” and it’s over, the nightmare is _over,_ and all’s right in the world.

\---

After reuniting with my children, AVALANCHE helps me find something to keep me decent once I leave the abandoned Shinra HQ. We settle on a long, flowing sundress of soft purple fabric. The feeling of the fabric on my skin—soft and comforting—is almost foreign after so long, and I tease poor Nanaki that he won’t get to enjoy the sight of my body as unilaterally as he once did. He chuffs good-naturedly in response.

We decide to pass him and the children off as guard dogs while spending time in general human company. It’ll raise fewer questions, and muggers and others who might consider a lone pregnant woman an easy target would be more cautious.

Stepping out into true light for the first time is like coming home. I gasp at the feeling of sunlight on my skin, tears beading in my eyes. Around me, my children are staring up at the blue sky and wispy clouds with looks of awe, their tails swishing back and forth.

“Don’t look directly at the sun, little ones,” I caution them. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“Yes, Mama,” they reply.

The air in Midgar was smoggy, dirty, tainted with smoke and sweat and general uncleanliness and it was also _real,_ not piped in through filters and controlled by Shinra, and I never want to breathe anything in again.

I wander through the lower slums, the people giving me a wide berth thanks to Nanaki and my children prowling about her. Before long, I stand once again at the edge of what had formerly been Sector 7. It’s been years since Shinra had collapsed the upper city onto it, and though the debris had been cleared, the little that remains is a desolate testament to their cruelty.

Walking around the edge of it, I am lost in memory, occasionally pointing out details of what had once been to my new family.

Past the ruins of Sector 7 was Sector 6, and then eventually the slums of Sector 5, the place I had been raised. Wandering through, I can’t but wonder if any of the people of Midgar recognized me after my absence and my new… _condition_. If so, none of them indicated as such.

At the far edge of the Sector 5 slums is a modest yet cozy cottage. It It’s just as I remember; even the flower garden outside was still maintained. Elmyra, my adopted mother… had she kept it going in memory of her daughter?

A sudden, clammy hand of fear gripped my heart. What if Elmyra was no longer there? What if she rejected me? What if she rejected my new family? It seems a stupid fear, especially for a woman who had faced down Hojo. But I can’t banish it on her own.

But thankfully, I’m not alone. One of my cubs pushes against the back of my legs, purring and looking up at me with wide eyes. I smile, steeling for their sake. I slowly make my way up to the cottage door, resting my hand on my belly, and rap a sharp staccato knock on it.

A minute or so later, it creaked open, and Elmyra Gainsborough gasps and then covers her mouth with her hands.

My voice is soft. “Hi, mom.”

Elmyra looks a little more worn than I remember, a weary and age-lined woman. She tries to speak and then collapses into grateful tears, burying herself against me. “You’re—you’re alive,” she said, hiccupping, and then she glanced down at my belly as if seeing it for the first time. “And you’re—my goodness! Oh, Aerith, who? _When?_ ”

Well, no better time to rip off the bandage than the present. “Nanaki,” I say with nudging cadence, “introduce yourself?”

“Hello,” Nanaki says, and Elmyra almost faints at the nonhuman voice. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Gainsborough.”

“Wh—what—” Elmyra said. “It talks?”

I gently correct her: “ _He_ talks, mom.” I hitch a heavy breath. “He’s the one who put these babies in me.” I rested my hand on her belly for emphasis. Within, I can feel my babies stirring with activity. The sensation gives me fortitude. “And these others are ours.” I smile. “I love him and them very much, mom. You’re a grandma.”

Elmyra studies the cubs with eyes like saucers. “They’re… yours?” she says.

“Yes. Or rather, ours.”

Before Elmyra can say any more, the cubs bound forward, joyous with cries of “Grandma, grandma!” They swamp Elmyra, showering her with nuzzles and licks and frolicking around her and the old woman’s face slowly shifts from incredulity to acceptance.

“I always knew,” she says, “ever since I adopted you that day on the train tracks, that you were destined for special things.” She scratches a nearby cub behind her ear and the little one set to purring something fierce. “Nanaki, you said? What kind of creature are you?”

“Our name isn’t pronounceable in your tongue,” he supplies, “but I’m the last of my kind. Or was. Your daughter fixed that.”

Elmyra fixes me with a proud gaze. “What a special girl you are.”

And her praise and her acceptance almost makes me weep. It’s okay. She’s okay. We’re—we’re going to be a family. All of us.

“It’s a long story to tell how we got here.” I run a finger through my hair, curling one loose strand around itself. “But we’ll have a long time to tell it if you come with us.”

“With you? To where?”

“My people are the stewards of a sacred, far-off land called Cosmo Canyon,” Nanaki says. “Shinra stole me away, and it’s time that I returned. Your daughter is coming with me.”

“And you can come too, mom,” I add. “I’d love to have you there. The kids would love their grandma.”

“Why this—so soon?” Elmyra says. Standing, she looks around, taking in the old cottage with its peaked roof and stout oak door. The flowers in the garden sway sunnily in the breeze. “So many memories in this place,” she muses. “My husband never came back from the war, and I wondered if the memories would get sour. But then the Lifestream blessed me with a girl to take care of. After you left, I thought I’d lost you forever… so I kept the gardens tended and the house tidy in your memory.” I can feel the emotion in her voice. It’s wistful and weighty with all she’s experienced. Was it wrong of me to ask this of her? To ask my mother to uproot her life for me?

But then she turns and gazes at me with a smile. “But why would I devote my life to old memories when I can make new ones? Of course I’ll come with you. Although,” she chortles, “the going may be slow. I’m an old woman, after all.”

Giggling, I tap one finger on my gravid belly. “I’m not exactly in a condition to move fast myself.”

The journey is long but uneventful. Whatever Nanaki’s species is, the monsters and beasts of the world know to leave him and those under his protection alone. We take transit where we can but inevitably, we walk for long stretches.

At night, as our cubs doze round the campfire and my future children tumble in my womb, I bring her mother up to speed. Elmyra had swooned at the way her daughter and Nanaki had fallen in love and had hated Hojo with a bitterness that surprised her daughter. She was as delighted as anyone to hear of his demise at the hands of AVALANCHE. What’s more, Elmyra proves to be the world’s best grandma, playing with and teasing her grandkids, and the cubs are more than appreciative, frolicking around and joyously yipping at her games. At times like this, I lean back against Nanaki’s comforting weight, sometimes gasping when the young inside of me kick and tumble, and wondered at the path my life has taken.

And before long, it is time. We are in a red, rocky part of the world, and Nanaki’s tail swishes with anticipation. It’s not only him. I, too, can feel the air changing around us. My Cetra blood whispers that we are entering a space of power, a place where the Lifestream still runs strong.

My lungs burn as we approached the crest of the hill from which, according to Nanaki, we might see Cosmo Canyon. “Come,” he says, his voice taut with emotion. He is heading back to the place he never thought he would see again. “Come. We’re so close.” My children supporting me, every step heavy from the life within, I crest the hill—and my breath stops.

It is a palace of stone, sculpted into the side of a cliff. Framed by the crescent moon and the burning red sunset, there’s a simple nobility to it. Fires burn like fireflies in pits and hearths, and people mill about. A great observatory trains itself on the heavens from the highest peak, and in the far recesses, a dark gorge yawned. Through it all, I can _feel_ the Lifestream.

“We’re here,” Nanaki says, his voice high with wonder and emotion. Glancing sideways at him, I rest a hand in his fur, feel his chest rising and falling with excited breath.

I can picture it all now. Myself, regularly swollen with cubs, year after year as I help Nanaki repopulate his people. Our children, playing and frolicking over the red sands—and, older, venturing into the depths of the canyon to learn their heritage and take their place as stewards of this land.

Elmyra would be here, helping me look after them all, and in a place more in touch with the Lifestream than ever, I could truly begin exercise my fledging Cetra powers. I could help heal the planet from the vagaries of Sephiroth and Shinra.

And at night, I’d lie back, spread my legs, and let my lover take her sweetly, his barbs teasing my walls and his knot keeping the two of us close and intimate.

Nanaki turns his head to meet his mate. I see in his eyes that he, too, was thinking of their future. “We’re here,” he repeats.

I smile and lean over to brush a kiss against his muzzle. One of the cubs inside of me kicks joyously. “We’re _home,_ ” I reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. You can find and interact with me on Twitter (https://twitter.com/FestivalGrey), tumblr (https://festival-grey.tumblr.com/), and FurAffinity (https://www.furaffinity.net/user/festivalgrey/).

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Don't be afraid to follow my Twitter (https://twitter.com/FestivalGrey), tumblr (https://festival-grey.tumblr.com), or FurAffinity (https://www.furaffinity.net/user/festivalgrey/) if you want to maybe get a story of your own ^^
> 
> Part 2 comes out in a week!


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